


mArinette

by QueerCosette



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Also I'm A Little Salty About Chameleon, Alya is a good and supportive friend struggling to understand what Marinette is going through, Angst with a Happy Ending, But Seriously Fuck Lila Rossi, Don't Like Don't Read, Easy A References, F/M, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Sex, Jealous Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Lila Rossi Can Suck It, M/M, No Alya Salt In This House, Post Puppeteer 2, Rumors, Slut Shaming, Teenagers are cruel, They're Of Age Obviously, eventual identity reveal, fuck i shouldn't have to go into my trauma with the catholic church for you, i portrayed it a certain way because of personal experiences, if you're going to soapbox do me a favour and fuck off, no actual sex happens though, not for self-righteous christians, we're pretending Chat Blanc didn't happen and Gabriel is still slightly alright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2020-07-23 04:44:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20002510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerCosette/pseuds/QueerCosette
Summary: Marinette tells a lie. A pretty big lie. And soon one lie turns into another, and before she knows it, she's going out of her way to keep the lie going.When Lila lies, it's sloppy. But Marinette's lie is all too believable.At least no one else is getting hurt by her lie.But Marinette's about to find out how hard it is to be known as the school slut.An Easy A AU.





	1. The shudder-inducing, clichéd, however totally false account of how Marinette Dupain-Cheng lost her virginity to a community college guy

**Author's Note:**

> I posted the beginning of this chapter and y'all seemed to like it, so here's the full thing.
> 
> Like I said in the tags, this does contain slut shaming, which is obviously portrayed as a bad thing. Because the concept of 'slut' is bullshit.

“Raoul is not a sexy name,” Alya says as she and Marinetta approach Adrien and Nino. “I don’t know any sexy Raouls.”

“Yeah, well, mine is sexy,” Marinette replies evenly. To Adrien, she looks like she’d rather be doing anything other than having this conversation.

“Well, point him out and I’ll decide for myself.”

Marinette hesitates for a moment before replying, “He doesn’t go to our school, he’s in college. You don’t know him.”

“Yeah, and neither do you, you flake,” Alya scowls, but there’s no real heat in it. She looks kind of sad.

“I do,” Marinette says, starting to sound annoyed now. “We’re online friends.”

“Who are we talking about?” Nino asks. Alya rolls her eyes.

“Marinette here can’t hang out with us this weekend because she apparently has a date with some guy named Raoul who she met off the internet.”

“I totally do have a date with him!” Marinette says defensively.

“Fine,” Alya rolls her eyes again. Adrien forces himself to ignore the uneasy feeling in his stomach that appeared with the news that Marinette has a date and instead wonders if Alya might succeed in rolling her eyes all the way back in her head. “But really, ‘Raoul’? That’s not a sexy name!”

They’re back to the beginning of the argument, and Adrien feels slightly uncomfortable. Marinette looks like she might actually be scoping out possible exit points, but Alya barrels on regardless. “Raoul is not a name you want to shout out during climax, OK?”

Marinette looks like she wants to die, but thankfully she has an unlikely saviour in the form of Ms Bustier, who clears her throat and raises an eyebrow at Alya. “And by ‘climax’, you mean?”

“The climactic point of a novel,” Marinette says hurriedly. “The outcome of the rising action, and ideally leading to the dénoument. Why, what were you thinking?” Marinette’s the only one in class who gets away with joking like that to Ms Bustier – Adrien suspects it’s the result of the incident a few months ago when Marinette was told to remain after class, presumably to be questioned about her tardiness problem. She’d certainly seemed more generally relaxed after the conversation.

“The same,” Ms Bustier says, raising her eyebrows. “But I don’t say it out loud unless someone gets the wrong idea. You know innuendo is attached to everything these days.” She winks and heads into the classroom, and as soon as she’s out of sight, Alya looks like she’d ready to continue the argument, but Marinette exhaustedly interrupts her.

“Look, Alya, I’m going on this date, and there is nothing you can say to stop me.”

“But Marinette!” Alya wails dramatically. “Think of the UMS you’ll be missing! The pillow fights to determine who really won! The pizza! The pastries you’ll be denying us!”

Marinette appears unmoved. Nino is trying not to laugh. Adrien is silent, having just been hit with the realisation that he’ll be third-wheeling if Marinette doesn’t come to Nino’s after school. As much as he loves hanging out with Nino and Alya, it is quite awkward to be single and hanging out with a couple if there’s not another friend to joke around with. And Marinette’s one of his best friends. He’d been so scared when he thought she didn’t like him when they were at the wax museum.

Hanging out with his friends without her around would be… unsettling. Like something was missing.

Alya is now pouting at Nino, who straightens up with a sigh that isn’t so much a sigh but a concealed chuckle. “OK, Mari-dude,” he grins. “I didn’t want to have to use this against you, but… Adrien, do the sad kitten eyes.”

A few months ago, Nino had discovered that Adrien is insanely good at doing impressions of cat memes, and had proclaimed that his ‘crying cat’ face was a yet-untapped weapon of mass destruction.

“If you were akumatized, you wouldn’t even need to have mind-control powers,” he’d declared. “You’d literally just have to do that face, dude. People would be tripping over themselves to cheer you up.”

It seems like it’s time to test that power. Adrien pouts at Marinette, blinking his big green eyes and making his lip tremble. “Please hang out with us, Marinette,” he says.

For a moment, it looks like Marinette might cave, but then Ms Bustier calls them into the classroom and Marinette hurries to sit down where she can avoid looking at his sad kitten face. Adrien and Nino sit down with a sigh, and Adrien glances back at Marinette, no longer making his ridiculous face.

“So you really can’t make it?”

Marinette looks desperately unhappy, but only for a second. Her sadness is gone so quickly that if he’d blinked he would have missed it. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“But –” Alya starts.

“Look,” Marinette says. “I _really_ like this guy, OK? And I think a date would be healthy for me.” She moves closer to Alya and lowers her voice, and Adrien knows he’s no longer a part of the conversation.

Which leaves him with nothing to do but brood on why Marinette liking someone makes him feel so… twisty inside.

Oh, and pay attention to Ms Bustier, who is currently dissecting the theme of isolation throughout Nathaniel Hawthorne’s _The Scarlet Letter._

He actually manages to forget that Marinette has a date, and finds himself daydreaming about their group hangout after school. They’ll play Ultimate Mecha Strike III and make each other laugh with stupid in-jokes and eat things that would make his nutritionist pop a blood vessel and –

“Do you think he might shout ‘cum for me’ in a phantom of the opera voice?” Alya says behind him, forgetting to keep her voice down.

As Ms Bustier chews Alya out for inappropriate language in the classroom, Adrien remembers that Marinette’s not going to be there tonight. Because she has a date with a college guy he’s never met. And for reasons he can’t explain, his stomach feels like it’s tied itself into a knot.

* * *

Marinette would feel bad about lying to her friends, but she knows what will happen if they hang out together just the four of them. Alya and Nino will go out of their way to make sure she and Adrien are alone together, and then Adrien will probably not pick up on the fact that they are being set up and will instead talk about Kagami and the hundreds of beautiful children and the pet hamster they’re going to have together and Marinette’s life will be _over –_

Anyway, she’s not up for it.

She _could_ have claimed that she had to work in the bakery, but she _knows_ Alya would have gone to her parents and begged for Marinette to be allowed to hang out with them since Adrien is hardly ever allowed to hang out with his friends. So a fake date seemed the safest option.

She forces herself to ignore Adrien’s sad face when she walks in a different direction from the group after school. It’s harder to ignore Nino’s wolf-whistle and Alya’s catcall, but she manages to keep her reaction to flipping them off without even turning around.

And just like that, she’s got her weekend entirely free.

* * *

**A by no means comprehensive list of how Marinette Dupain-Cheng actually spent her weekend (rather than on a date with a guy called Raoul)**

  * Cutting out the pattern for that new dress she’d designed
  * Kicking an Akuma’s butt on Saturday morning (some poor soul who’d received their first work warning for not turning up for a work meeting they hadn’t been told about and calling themselves AdminiHater (yeah, Hawkmoth wasn’t being too creative these days))
  * Baking and subsequently overeating a plate of macarons (with Tikki’s help on both fronts)
  * Kicking another Akuma’s butt on Saturday night (this time one called Queen of Clubs; a pissed off sixteen-year-old who had failed to get into a night club even with a fake ID)
  * Sewing the dress pattern together
  * Twirling around her room singing early 2000s karaoke hits. She’s particularly proud of her rendition of _A Pocketful Of Sunshine_ by Natasha Beddingfield.
  * Collapsing into bed on Sunday night at an actually reasonable time and praying Hawkmoth had the decency not to send another Akuma.



* * *

But then, of course, Monday arrives, and she’s forced to bullshit about how awesome her date was.

“It was great,” she tells Alya as they walk to the cafeteria. “He was a real gentleman. It feels like I got a love and I know that it’s all mine, you know?” she improvs.

“And you’re totally over Adrien?” Alya says sceptically. Marinette laughs airily, even though the lie has her feeling seriously heavy with guilt.

“Who?” she teases. Alya doesn’t quite look like she believes her, but drops the subject – at least until they reach the table Nino’s already sitting at when she asks the question that ruins it all.

“So, are you going to see him again?”

Herein lies the problem. On one hand, Marinette could say yes and immediately have an on-hand excuse for not being able to hang out with Adrien. But that would lead to Alya wanting to meet the guy, and her parents finding out, and Team TurtleFox planning double dates that cannot happen because _Raoul does not exist_.

And saying no means she can stop this lie and they can put it behind them before anyone gets hurt.

“No, I don’t think so,” she says after a moment’s consideration. “It was just a one-time thing.”

Alya looks suspicious. _Not good. Abort mission, abort, abort, abort!_ “Aren’t you supposed to be eternally in love with this guy?”

Marinette shrugs uneasily. “Yeah?”

Alya is silent, but Marinette can see the cogs turning in her head, and naturally, Alya comes to the worst possible conclusion.

“HOLY SHIT!” she yells, making Nino jump so badly he nearly catapults his mashed potatoes into his face. Alya looks apologetic, and lowers her voice. “You totally lost your V-card to him!”

Nino has apparently only just tuned into the conversation, because he looks seriously confused. “Who lost their what-now?”

“Marinette had sex with Raoul!” Alya whispers excitedly.

“I did not!” Marinette splutters. Alya looks like she’s having the best day ever.

“You totally did!” she says gleefully, getting to her feet and yanking Marinette up too. “Girls’ bathroom. Now! I need deets!”

They leave Nino staring after them, not realising his mashed potato is slowly dripping off his fork that’s stopped halfway to his mouth, and head for the exit, passing Adrien on his way in. “Hey Marinette, hey Alya,” he begins cheerfully. “Aren’t you guys staying for –”

“Can’t stay,” Alya whoops, enjoying herself far too much. “My girl Mari got _laid!”_

 _“Alya!”_ Marinette hisses, but the damage is done, and Adrien looks rather like Alya has just hit him in the face with a dead parrot. Like he can’t quite compute what’s just happened.

He’s still adorable, though.

Alya bundles Marinette into the girls’ bathroom, not even bothering to check for feet under the doors before barking, “Now, _spill!”_

Marinette can feel Tikki in her purse poking at her leg in a disapproving way, telling her to tell Alya the truth now, but Marinette can’t help but think maybe this will get Alya off her back about Adrien for good.

And so she gives in.

“Fine,” she says, and the Tikki-poking stops for a minute, perhaps because the little God thinks that Marinette has finally seen sense. _Sorry, Tikki._ “We… did it.”

The Tikki-poking starts back up with renewed annoyance, and Alya squeals loudly. “Girl! Finally! What was it like? What did you do?” Her eyes widen dramatically. “How far did you go?”

“It was… good,” Marinette says awkwardly. “Nice, you know? But it was pretty normal. He didn’t shout anything weird like you thought he might. No freaky stuff or anything.”

“Nothing wrong with freaky stuff.”

“Obviously,” Marinette nearly rolls her eyes. As Chloé would say, this is utterly ridiculous. “No, he knew what he was doing, he was good. And… attentive?” she tries.

This was apparently the right thing to say, because Alya squeals so loudly Tikki pauses in her poke-attack to presumably cover her ears. Marinette thinks she might be finally out of the woods when a cubicle door swings open and things go from Not Great to Absolutely The Worst Possible Thing That Could Happen.

Or, as most of the school knows her, Lila Rossi.

This is worse than one of the school’s uber-religious bible-thumping do-gooders overhearing her, because at best they’ll be shocked into silence and at worst they might try to witness to her, but Lila Rossi is an entirely different kettle of fish. A malicious, lying, Marinette-hating, Adrien-loving, but somehow completely innocent in the eyes of the majority of the school, kettle of fish.

And she’s just heard everything.

“I can't believe my little Marinette has grown up,” Alya sighs like a fond parent, somehow not connecting Lila Rossi with Imminent Danger like a sane person should. “I mean, on Friday I was willing to bet you were going to be the last one of us to do it, but here you are having sex with a dude you met on the internet and –”

“Alya!” Marinette hisses, nodding pointedly in Lila’s direction, where the Rena-Rouge-wannabe is smirking madly. “Ix-nay on the ex-say!”

Alya glances back at Lila. “It’s cool,” she shrugs. “Lila’s cool.”

Lila smiles brightly, tossing her hair. “Aw, thanks, Alya!” she says in a tone coated with fake sugariness. “I think you’re cool too!”

Alya positively preens at the compliment. “Wanna come to lunch with us, Lila?”

“Sure!” Lila says cheerfully. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ll be texting Clara throughout it though?”

“Clara?” Marinette asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Clara Nightingale, of course!” Lila laughs, and Marinette rolls her eyes at the lie. _Goddamn it, Alya, this is so obviously a lie! At least I put some effort into mine._ “You coming, Marinette?”

“I’ll catch up,” Marinette says coldly. “I have to pee.”

“Suit yourself,” Alya says, linking arms with Lila. “See you back at the table, Mari!” Suddenly, she grins wickedly. “Don’t shag anymore strangers before we see you again!”

“Shut up!” Marinette groans. The door closes behind the two girls and she sinks against the counter, letting Tikki out of her purse. Tikki doesn't even have to say anything – Marinette has already worked out how badly her day is probably going to go. “Well, that went about as badly as it could have gone,” she sighs. Tikki does the Kwami equivalent of raising an eyebrow.

“Ya think?”

“Tell me the truth, Tikki,” Marinette sighs. “Would being burned as a Witch be more or less painful than whatever Lila’s going to do to me?”

When Tikki actually shrugs, Marinette groans like a dying whale. You know your day is bad when an immortal God reckons Joan of Arc might have had it better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update February 2020: I've been getting comments from self-righteous Christians annoyed at my portrayal of Christian characters in this. I'd just like to say: I'm fucking done, and you're going to get deleted, because I'm not going into my trauma involving the Catholic church for you fuckers. I've said this before, but this story is personal to me because I went through a lot of the same shit that Marinette does in this. Frankly, if you're going to 'soapbox' I don't give a shit about what you have to say.
> 
> Everyone else who commented lovely things, I love you so much and you make my experience on this website so much better.


	2. The accelerated velocity of terminological inexactitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With her reputation in the toilet, Marinette decides to play into her new slut persona.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slut shaming is bad. I'm going to say that at the start of every chapter.
> 
> Also, a lot of organised religion has become bad, especially Christianity. Jesus is my homeboy but God and the Bible have a lot to answer for.
> 
> And homophobia is another thing that is bad and suckish. I'm going to tag that as soon as I've posted this chapter.

‘F=ma’

Marinette stares at the equation on the board, doing her best to ignore everyone staring at her. It seems ‘Clara Nightingale’ wasn’t the only person Lila was texting at lunchtime. Her entire physics class starts whispering behind her every time Ms Mendeliev leaves the room to use the printer, which is located in the general storage room next to the chemical storage room – a fact that Marinette normally revels in, because it means she can chat to Adrien, who sits next to her, but today she really doesn’t want to talk to him.

Marinette can just about cope with the rest of the school gossiping about her sexual exploits, but Adrien asking her about them is something she can _not_ let happen. It doesn’t seem to be happening though (Adrien has been strangely subdued since lunch for some reason) so Marinette instead tries to block out the whispers and focus on the equation.

‘F=ma’

Or rather, the Force with which an object will hit you is equal to the mass multiplied by the acceleration. This lesson is all about rearranging the equation to work out different factors (like how big is an object travelling at 60 metres per second if it hits you with a force of 80 Newtons (1.33 kilograms, for anyone wondering)).

The problem is, Marinette can work out those sort of equations super easily as a result of her ‘afterschool activities’ (the superhero ones, not the imaginary sex ones) so she’s often left feeling bored in a lesson like this. And today, she has nothing to think about but that stupid rumour.

_If the news of me losing my virginity to a dude off the internet has a mass of ‘biggest piece of gossip this year’ kilograms and it hits the school with a force of roughly ‘holy shit, we weren’t expecting that at all’ Newtons, that means it’s travelling around the student body with an average acceleration of ‘Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s nearly flawless reputation will be completely screwed by the end of today’ metres per second._

Still, Marinette can’t help but enjoy a little of the attention that comes with being the talk of the school. While girls are, admittedly, giving her scandalised looks from all directions, guys are _talking_ to her. Smiling at her. One boy (who she’s, admittedly, never spoken to before in her life) offers to carry her books between classes.

Of course, there’s the good attention, and there’s the bad attention.

College François Dupont has two tenth-grade classes: Marinette’s own class, and Marc’s class, as she remembers them. And Marc’s class has the problem of quite a few religious do-gooders. Marinette’s only really ever had to interact with one of them (the class representative Suzanne Blanchard, who according to Kim would be considered hot if she wasn’t such a killjoy) and she has never enjoyed talking to her. The girl always seems to find a way to subtly tell Marinette she’s going to Hell for ‘sinning in the eyes of God’, which Marinette has always found hilarious since she’s the one with an actual tiny God living in her purse. But the way Suzanne is looking at her in French is… unsettling.

Repulsed, almost.

Marinette decides it’s time to do something about whatever rumour Lila has spread about her (because she has absolutely _no doubt_ that the brat has twisted it to make Marinette look even worse), and she approaches Suzanne after class.

“Hey, Suzanne, can we talk? One rep to another?”

Suzanne narrows her eyes suspiciously, like she thinks Marinette might be about to take her as a human sacrifice, but nods, and they enter the privacy of the locker room, which is thankfully empty.

“So,” Marinette starts, “I just wanted to tell you that whatever Lila told you about me, it’s not true.” She laughs humourlessly. “It’s actually kind of a funny story –”

“Ma-ri-nette,” Suzanne enunciates, her face going from suspicious to patronizing in a single terrifying millisecond. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Marinette says slowly, frowning a little at Suzanne’s apparent name-remembering trouble. “We’ve been class reps together for two years. And we have three classes together too – four, if you count Religions of Other Cultures, but you called it Science Fiction and refused to go, so…” She chuckles nervously. People call Marinette crazy for her Adrien tendencies, which are now firmly behind her, but Suzanne and her flock have a specific kind of crazy that they probably won’t ditch ever. Suzanne smiles widely and makes a sort of ‘hmmm’ noise.

“Listen,” she says slowly, as if she thinks Marinette is slow-witted. “I’m not the one you have to answer to for your depraved actions. There’s a higher power that will judge you for your indecency.”

Marinette’s patience is not something easily tried. Heck, she put up with Chloé for years before doing anything about it. She tolerates Lila to a certain extent, if only because she knows everyone will go batshit if Marinette calls her out. But Suzanne is doing a great job of testing Marinette’s patience, and Marinette can’t help the sassy response that slips out.

“Jagged Stone?”

Suzanne looks like she’s sucked on a lemon. “You’ve made your bed,” she says coolly. “I just hope for your sake that you’ve _cleaned the sheets.”_

And with that she walks out, leaving Marinette with one eye twitching and the sudden hope that Hawkmoth will do his thing so she has something to wail on.

* * *

“You guys know that I was here all weekend, right?”

Sabine looks up from where she’s carefully turning the roast potatoes. “Yes, you were upstairs.”

“And you would testify to that?” Marinette continues.

Tom puts down his wooden spoon and looks at her seriously. “I would take a bullet for you,” he says. “You know that. Right between the eyes.” His moustache twitches with mirth. “I mean, I would slit my throat rather than say something to someone that you didn’t want me to say –”

“That’s not necessary, dad,” Marinette hurriedly interrupts. She manages a proper smile for the first time that day. “But that’s comforting, thanks.”

Sabine has finished with the potatoes and turns to Marinette, looking a little worried. “What’s going on, honey? Why do you want us to take a bullet for you if someone asks if you were here all weekend?”

Marinette kind of wishes she could tell her parents about her stupid lie, but she’s already getting enough disapproval from everyone else in her life, so all she says is, “It’s nothing, just the school rumour mill.”

Sabine frowns, and Marinette wonders if she’s wondering why Alya hasn’t mentioned anything about the school rumour mill recently. Marinette knows full well that Alya is Sabine’s source of College François Dupont gossip, but she suspects there’s a good reason Alya didn’t mention this particular scandal to her mother. “What’s the school rumour mill churning out this time? Anything interesting?” And by ‘interesting’, she means ‘anything we should be worried about’.

Marinette remembers her conversation with Suzanne that afternoon, and scowls. “Not really. Actually, it’s a little low on grist.”

Tom claps his hand over his heart, looking delighted at her wordplay, and Marinette can’t help but giggle, and just like that, the dinner is ready and the topic changes to the lunacy of a customer in the bakery that morning.

* * *

The next day, Marinette decides to try an experiment. Instead of her normal blazer and T-shirt, she wears a black vest top with two green Chat Noir paw prints emblazoned on it (guess where), and changes out her flats for a pair of black wedge sandals. The top is a little lower cut than she’s used to, but that’s the point. If everyone’s gossiping about her sexual exploits, she might as well dress for the occasion.

However, third and fourth period make her wish she had stuck to her normal modest look. It’s double World Literature, and since her class and Marc’s class are both studying _The Scarlet Letter_ , Ms Bustier and Ms Moreau have decided to combine their classes for the day. Which means Marinette is forced to deal with a double period of scandalized looks from Suzanne and her followers. Marc is apparently out today, so she can’t even exchange ‘can you believe these guys’ glances with him.

The irony of the book choice is obvious, what with its themes of adultery, vengeance and isolation. It’s not lost on Marinette how whatever book they’re reading in class always seems to parody whatever angsty teenage drama is going on. And it’s very clear who’s playing Hester Prynne in this adaption.

(Hint: it’s not Demi Moore.)

“What we have to realise,” Ms Bustier is saying, “is that Hester lived in an entirely different time and place from us – a time and place where the worst crime a woman could commit was in fact adultery.” A hand shoots up at the front of the classroom, and Ms Bustier nods. “Yes, Lara?”

Oh joy. Lara Boulet, one of Suzanne’s disciples, and possibly the blandest yet snootiest person Marinette has ever met. Her brand of snootiness is completely different to Chloé’s as it stems from the Holier-Than-Thou attitude her entire group seems to have. Marinette knows that whatever comes out of Lara’s mouth is going to make her twitch and wish she had something to bite down on.

“I think Hester Prynne was – pardon my French,” Lara says, and Suzanne and the other disciples all twitter at the pun. Marinette might have laughed if it had been literally anyone else. “– a _skank.”_

Ms Bustier blinks a little. “So you don’t think she was a victim at all?”

“Why should I?” Lara says piously. “She brought it on herself.” She turns to look right at Marinette, who braces herself for whatever’s coming next. “Perhaps you should embroider a red A on _your_ wardrobe, you abominable _tramp_.”

 _Ouch._ Marinette can’t say what exactly it is that spurs her to respond. Maybe it’s Alya fuming next to her that she got told off for inappropriate language but Lara’s getting off scot-free. Maybe it’s Lila’s smug little smirk. Maybe it’s simply the presence of the feelings Suzanne and Lara seem to kindle within her every time they open their mouths. Whatever it is, it flips something inside of her.

“Perhaps you should _get_ a wardrobe, you abominable _twat.”_

* * *

Principal Damocles is busy with someone, and instructs her to wait in the student rep office next door. Marinette collapses into one of the chairs and heaves a sigh. At least she’s alone in here. Maybe she can let Tikki out and together they can figure out why Marinette’s so on edge lately (although it’s probably something to do with everyone whispering about her every time there isn’t a teacher in the room). That plan goes to shit when Suzanne walks in and begins stapling some worksheets together.

“Seems like _someone’s_ on a _downward spiral_ ,” Suzanne says coolly, thumping the stapler with unnecessary force.

Apparently being sent to the principal has not taught Marinette to keep her mouth shut regarding digs towards her alleged weekend activities (this time the imaginary sex rather than the superheroing). “Seems like _someone’s_ practising for the menial task she’ll be saddled with for the rest of her _pathetic life_.”

Once again, Suzanne’s face pinches like she’s swallowed a lemon. “I just hope for your sake you at least had the decency to use protection.”

Marinette feels like laughing, even though there’s nothing funny about this conversation. “Why? Your parents didn’t.”

Clearly Suzanne has had enough of pretending to be cordial. “You’re going to Hell,” she says bluntly.

“Just so long as you won’t be there,” Marinette snaps. For Kwami’s sake, why can’t these people just leave her alone? It’s always the same thing. The school at large seems to consider Marinette putting a toe out of line as a call for an immediate angry intervention. Marinette is willing to bet that _Chloé_ wouldn’t be getting this sort of treatment. Maybe because Chloé is terrifying, but still!

“I can assure you I won’t,” Suzanne sniffs, and Marinette slumps in her chair.

_“Good.”_

Damocles’ door opens, and a boy emerges – Marinette thinks she recognises him from Suzanne’s group of followers. Then another boy leaves, and something twists in Marinette’s stomach.

It’s Marc. And he’s holding a blood-stained cloth to his nose.

Their eyes meet through the open door, and Marc raises his eyebrows at her, but there’s no humour in it.

Marinette feels sick.

* * *

Mr Damocles seems shocked at what Marinette’s been sent to him for. To be fair, her previous misdemeanours mainly involve tardiness, with occasional speaking out of turn, but never cursing in class. While it’s certainly not the worst word she could have said, and she was admittedly provoked, Lara’s parents are the chaperones for a lot of school events, so Marinette leaves the office with a detention to be served after school.

She runs into Adrien on her way to lunch, and considers running the other way as fast as her stupid shoes can carry her, but he shouts hello to her before she can get away, and he seems to be approaching, so there’s not much she can do to get away.

“Heydrien,” she manages, then coughs and tries again. “Hey, Adrien.” Great. A full two-word sentence. Now just the rest of the conversation to get through. Last week she would have been fine, but it’s hard to look Adrien in the eye when he definitely knows about what she ‘did’ with Raoul.

“Hey, Marinette,” he says again as he reaches her. He’s smiling nervously for some reason. “I was wondering if you’d maybe like to get lunch together.”

 _Christ. Shit. Fuck._ Adrien probably wants to talk to her so he can ask her advice on asking Kagami out again. That was painful enough the first time, and Marinette’s learned her lesson in that department. That’s why she’s created Raoul, after all.

“Uh, sorry,” she says, woefully remembering how a month ago an invitation like that would have her stoked. “I have to go run a few errands for my parents. Groceries, y’know?”

Adrien looks disappointed, but perks up again after a second. “Well, were you planning to go to Chloé’s party on Saturday? The whole school’s invited. It’ll be less formal than the last one because the hotel’s closed and her parents are in Nice, but it’ll probably be –”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Marinette interrupts hurriedly, because Adrien appears to be edging dangerously into rambling territory. She has enough experience to know that rambling can go on forever if someone doesn’t cut you off early. “I’m probably going to spend Saturday maybe doing some sewing or something.” This conversation should probably end now, because otherwise Marinette might forget her strict No Hoping policy when it comes to Adrien. “I have to go… see ya.”

“Yeah…” Adrien says behind her as she hurries off. She forces herself to ignore how unhappy he sounds, and heads home.

* * *

Her parents aren’t exactly happy to hear that she has detention, but she can tell they’re struggling not to laugh when she explains the full situation and what exactly she said that got her sent to Damocles. Tikki finds it funny too, but it does lead to a slightly awkward conversation when the Kwami asks what a ‘twat’ is. Apparently she hasn't had a British holder since roughly 1324.

* * *

Marinette shows up to detention not knowing what to expect, but apparently she and her other detention buddy will be cleaning the cafeteria, the locker room and the toilets. To her shock, her detention buddy is Marc, with a streak of dried blood under his nose and a bandage strip holding the bridge in place.

“Aren’t there child labour laws against this?” she asks Marc as soon as they’re alone with only two buckets and two mops for company. Marc huffs a laugh out of his right nostril.

“Not in school,” he says. “The Principal’s like the captain of the ship in international waters.” He tilts his head, contemplating the simile. “He can officiate a wedding if he wants to.”

Marinette laughs. “We haven’t talked in a while. How have you been, Marc?”

“Fabulous,” Marc says flatly, squeezing out his mop. “I’m crushing it. Everything going according to plan. I wanted to spend this afternoon in detention.”

Marinette remembers what he looked like exiting Damocles’ office earlier, and frowns. “You know, I was expecting to see the other guy in here instead of you. Judging from the amount of blood gushing from your nose I would have said you were the bull _ied._ ”

“You’d think,” Marc rolls his eyes. “But Damocles wouldn’t do anything about _him_ since his parents are big fundraiser contributors, so I got detention for pointing out that he cares more about school funding than homophobia.”

“Ah, so the rumours _are_ true.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Marc plays it off cool, but Marinette can tell that this has really shaken him.

“I meant the rumours that Damocles cares more about funding than student rights,” she jokes, and succeeds in making him huff out of his right nostril again.

* * *

“So, what’s with your new look?” he asks when they move onto the locker room. “Very whore-couture.”

“Didn’t you hear?” Marinette jokes, even though there is literally nothing she has found actually funny all day. “I’m the new school slut.”

“You know, I did hear something,” Marc nods, frowning lightly. “I also heard he was twice your age.”

Marinette looks up with a frown. “What? No, no, he was a freshman in college.”

“I also heard he gave you crabs.”

“Ew!” Marinette shudders. _Kwami-damn you, Lila!_ “People suck!”

Marc points at his nose bandage. “Tell me about it.”

* * *

“He’s not real,” she finds herself admitting as she scrubs graffiti off a cubicle wall.

The squeaking of Marc’s pen as he adds more graffiti pauses in the next cubicle. “What?”

“The guy I slept with,” she clarifies. “I made him up.”

“ _You_ started the rumour?”

“Technically, I guess… sort of.” She thinks it over, then corrects herself. “No, actually, I really didn’t.”

“But you’re perpetuating it,” Marc points out. “No offense, Mari, but that’s really messed up.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not even a real slut,” Marc reminds her. “You just want people to think you are. Again, no offense, but that’s kind of pathetic.”

“Uh, _no offense_ , but you could probably learn something from me, _Marco,_ ” she retaliates. Marc laughs bitterly.

“Are you saying I should pretend I’m straight so people will like me? That’s ground-breaking, Mari. You should teach a course at the learning annexe, it could be called ‘The Painfully Obvious with Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the fake school slut’.”

“I’m just suggesting,” Marinette says, for some reason feeling a little offended on behalf of her alleged sluttiness, “maybe these kids we call peers are onto something. Look at Lila Rossi. She’s super popular because everyone believes she’s done all these cool things and met all these cool people, when in reality she’s a psychopath with a boring life. Look at Suzanne Blanchard. Maybe that whole stuck-up Bible-freak thing is an act.”

“Nah, I think she’s just a stuck-up Bible-freak.” Marc gets up and starts poking at a lump of dried wet paper-towel on the edge of a sink, and Marinette gives up on the graffiti (congrats to whoever the ‘shit-house poet’ is, they really know where to shop for decent markers) and joins him. “Besides,” Marc adds quietly, “some of us just want to blend into the crowd.”

Marinette smiles sadly. “Then you’ve either got to do everything you can to blend in, or just decide you don’t care.”

Marc squints at her in the mirror. “I can’t decide if you’re a genius or a lunatic.”

Marinette smiles. Her reflection smiles back, a girl in a low-cut top who looks far more confident than Marinette feels. “Don’t they usually go hand-in-hand?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will at some point be a chapter detailing Adrien's view of the situation. Until then, I'd love to hear your theories!!


	3. A Lady's Choice and a Gentleman's Agreement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marc asks Marinette for a favour. Adrien is still acting weird around her. And Lila is a bitch, so Marinette decides to get revenge in the best way possible.
> 
> (Well, maybe not the best way. But goddamn, does it feel satisfying.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marinate may seem a little out of character in this chapter. But may I remind you that she is putting on a very specific act for the majority of it.
> 
> Also, slut-shaming is bad. And so is homophobia.
> 
> Warning: this chapter does contain a scene with two people pretending to have sex. No actual sex happens though. They just shout a lot of things at the door that make it sound like they are.

Wednesday passes fairly similarly to Monday, with the same routine of boys winking, girls whispering, and bible-thumpers looking scandalized every time Marinette breathes in, but there’s a surprise for her after school when Marc asks if he can talk to her. Marinette invites him to her house and they head in through the bakery, where she awkwardly introduces him to her parents and then announces they’re going up to her room. She can literally hear them whispering all the way up to the flat, and she’s pretty sure Marc can too, but she steadfastly ignores them.

“Marinette has a _boy_ in her room.”

“A boy?”

“A boy.”

“That’s not the Agreste boy.”

“No.”

“Marinette has a boy in her room that isn’t the Agreste boy?”

“Marinette has a boy in her room, Tom, and no, it’s not Adrien.”

“A _boy_.”

“Please pay no attention to my parents,” Marinette says as Marc follows her through the trapdoor. “ _Please.”_

Marc looks around her room. “It’s pretty. Your room. Very pink.”

“Thanks,” Marinette smiles, sitting in the desk chair and offering Marc the chaise. “Now, what’s up? Is this about the comic? Or –”

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” Marc asks bluntly. Marinette gapes.

“Uh, Marc, yesterday you told me you were Kinsey-scale six gay.”

“Yeah,” Marc shrugs, “but you said I should pretend to be straight if I want to fit in.”

“Yeah, but not with _me,”_ Marinette groans. “Just tell people you had sex with a girl or something. Make someone up.”

Marc is silent, but he suddenly unfathomably raises his eyebrows at her. Marinette blinks. Marc nods at her. Marinette frowns. Marc wiggles his eyebrows, and Marinette finally realises what he’s hinting at.

“No,” she says sharply. “No, no, no, absolutely not!”

“Please!” Marc begs. “Please, please, please, please – we could help each other out!” At Marinette’s confused look, he elaborates, “I need to pretend I’m straight, you want to uphold this floozy image –”

“Excuse me, but how do you know I like being thought of as a floozy?”

“Because it means at least people will stop constantly asking you about your crush on Agreste,” Marc says astutely. He fixes her with his big green eyes. “Please, Marinette. I don’t need Suzanne to tell me I’m going to Hell when her friends are making sure I’m already living there. Just one good imaginary bonk, and we’ll never speak of it again.”

Curse Marinette’s intrinsic need to help the downtrodden. Curse her determination to place herself between a bully and their target if it means the target will be spared. And especially curse Marc’s sad eyes, and the way the bandage is still crookedly stuck to the bridge of his nose. Marinette groans and pulls out her phone.

“Fine, but for people to believe it, it’ll have to be a public event. You got an invite to Chloé’s party on Saturday?” Marc nods. “Time to accept it.”

* * *

And that’s how Marinette ended up borrowing a dress from her mum, and Marc ended up borrowing a jacket from Marinette, and both of them end up stumbling through the doors of the Grand Paris Hotel with Marc’s arm around Marinette’s waist and her’s across his shoulders, holding each other up and giggling madly. The main party seems to be in the restaurant, and Marinette hurries to find Chloé, their gracious host for the evening.

“Chloé!” Marinette shouts upon seeing her. “Hey, Chloé-Chlo. How ya doin’?”

“All…right?” Chloé says uncertainly. “Marinette and… Marc?”

“So listen,” Marinette drawls, getting all up in Chloé’s personal space, and making the blonde flinch a little. “We might have had a few pre-cocktail-party cocktails before the cocktail party _with_ cocktails, and anyway, Marc was telling me this rrrrealllly funny thing, Kuh-loé Bourge-waaah,” (the mispronunciation serves two purposes: convincing Chloé she’s drunk and getting just a tiny bit of revenge on her for all the past bullying. Chloé may be trying to be better now, but Marinette doesn’t forget) “…and I was wondering if there was somewhere we could go where he could… _keep_ telling me that really funny thing, _if you know what I mean?”_

Chloé looks a little disgusted, but all the same forces a smile and points them to the nearest hotel bedroom. “THANK YOU!” Marinette shouts over her shoulder as she drags Marc towards the room.

“PUT DOWN A TOWEL!” Chloé shouts back, naturally getting the attention of the entire room just as the door slams behind them.

_Perfect._

The second the door is shut, Marinette and Marc both straighten up, and Marinette carefully locks the door.

“What is this? Silk?” she hears, and looks up to see Marc wrapped in a red curtain. “It’s _pretty!”_

“What are you doing?!” Marinette hisses. “Get on the bed!” With the door locked, she takes a deep breath before reaching up her dress and yanking her underwear down.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Marc says, suddenly looking very wary. “What are _you_ doing?”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Relax.” She hangs the underwear over the door’s keyhole, because she’s sure someone will be pressing their face against it in hopes of catching a glimpse of the action. Now all they’ll get a glimpse of is red lace. “Are you really that repulsed by lady-parts? What do you think I have down there, a gnome or something?”

“Just took me by surprise,” Marc mumbles. Marinette totters over to the bed in her stupidly high heels and kicks them off, while Marc removes his own shoes and jacket. Time to get started.

“OK,” Marinette says. “Grunt.”

Marc lets out a noise reminiscent of a cat being shoved through a laminator, and Marinette rolls her eyes. “No, _grunt._ Sex noises. Moan!”

Same cat noise. At Marinette’s unimpressed look, he tries another sound. And another. And another. It hasn’t improved, but it’s edging from cat to monkey, and Marinette decides it’s time for desperate measures.

She slaps him.

“AAAAAAAAH!” Marc whines, and Marinette hurriedly clamps her hand over his mouth to muffle it. This time they’ve hit the mark, and she nods encouragingly. Catching on, Marc imitates the noise, while Marinette starts making her own noises.

“Oh, yeah,” she moans. “Oh, yeah, oh, yeah!” She catches sight of a thick magazine on the bedside table (‘Things You Must Do In Paris – in sixteen different languages!’) and impulsively snatches it up. She pushes Marc into a kneeling position and whacks him across the backside with the magazine.

“Ow!” he complains.

“Oh, you don’t like that?” Marinette says in her best ‘seductress’ voice, knowing all too well that her peers are probably pressed up against the door to listen to them. She whacks him again and he hisses, almost like Chat Noir when it rains.

“No, I do _not_ like that!” he complains.

“No? How about _that!”_

Marc makes a considering noise. “Huh. Little better.”

 _“Yeah,_ _you like that!”_ Marinette yanks him onto his feet, tossing the magazine aside. “This is the fun part,” she whispers, before beginning to jump on the bed and smack the ridiculously tall headboard with both hands. Marc joins her after a second, bouncing slightly out of time with her. “Don’t stop!” Marinette wails. “Don’t stop, it’s so good!” She winks at Marc. “Now you try.”

“I’m not gonna stop!” Marc improvs. “I’m… I’m gonna turn you around and take you from behind!”

Marinette stops bouncing. “Yeah, that’s not gonna make people think you’re straight.”

Marc looks panicked, and starts jumping with renewed vigour. “Never mind that!” he shouts at the door. “I’m a straight dude!”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Marinette shouts. “Keep going, don’t stop!”

“You’re so hot, Marinette!” Marc tries, turning roughly the colour of a ripe tomato. “You’re so sexy and… uh… your boobs are… great!”

“Time to wrap this up,” Marinette mutters, if only to save Marc from turning any redder. Poor boy really doesn’t know how to deal with lady parts. “Ready for the grand finale?”

“Sure,” Marc whispers back as he stops bouncing. “What is it –”

Without any warning, Marinette punches him in the stomach so hard he falls back onto his knees. As Marc groans loudly and clutches his middle, Marinette lets loose a high-pitched whine. “Yes – yes – yes – OH, YEAH!”

The performance over, she jumps down and puts her shoes back on while Marc gets his breath back, mussing up her hair in the mirror. Marc joins her, and as a final touch, she presses a lipsticky kiss to his cheek. To her surprise, he pulls her into a tight hug.

“Thank you, Mari,” he whispers, and she nearly cries from how much gratitude there is in his voice.

“You’re welcome,” she whispers back, and then to complete his new image, removes her thong from the doorknob and tucks it into his back pocket. “Knock ‘em dead, tiger.”

As suspected, several people (mainly boys) back away from the door when it opens. Marc is immediately yanked into the crowd by a boy Marinette recognises as one of his tormentors. She notices Marc flinch in preparation for a hit that never comes.

“How was it, dude?” the guy asks instead. Marc grins.

“Man, I’m not gonna be able to walk tomorrow.”

The guy freezes, and Marinette groans. Marc looks panicked, but then he laughs wildly and says, “Because I’m drunk, man!” The boy roars his approval and shouts for someone to get Marc a beer, tugging him into the crowd. And Marinette is left alone.

Well, she might as well head for home. She’s done what she came to do.

To her horror, she runs into Adrien on her way out. He’s holding some glittery pink cocktail that she’d probably bet is his first drink of the night, and he’s smiling at her, looking a little confused.

Not drunk-confused. Just confused.

“Hey, Marinette,” he says. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

Marinette shrugs awkwardly. “Times change,” she laughs, trying to sound unbothered but in reality all too aware that she looks an absolute state right now. “You here with a date or something?” She checks around for Kagami, who is thankfully nowhere to be seen. Having more than one friend see her like this at one time would be too much to handle.

Adrien shakes his head, smiling fondly at her. Lately he’s been giving her this look that Marinette is pretty sure is pity-based. He looks at her like she’s a small, helpless duckling with a leaf stuck in its feathers. “Can I get you a drink or something?” He’s smiling hopefully, but Marinette shakes her head.

“I’m probably just gonna leave,” she says. “I came here with a date, but he’s drunk so I figured I might as well get home.” Well, it's not _totally_ a lie.

“You came with a date?” Adrien asks, frowning. Marinette chuckles bitterly.

“Could have sworn the whole school had their ears pressed against that bedroom door,” she jokes. “But that’s what we get for choosing to wait til we got here to – well, y’know.” Adrien has that slapped-parrot look again, and Marinette, feeling a boldness she didn’t know she had, reaches up and ruffles his hair. “See you at school, Agreste.”

“Yeah… see you,” Adrien says behind her. It’s not until she’s in the elevator until she realises that’s the first time she’s called Adrien ‘Agreste’ and not ‘Adrien’. Maybe her plan to get over him is working.

There’s a nasty surprise waiting for her in the lobby, which is deserted except for –

“Well, well, well,” Lila sneers. “Look what the tramp dragged in.”

“Oh, lovely,” Marinette says, not really thinking. “And here I was thinking my night couldn’t get any better.”

Lila gives Marinette the once-over. “God, you’re pathetic,” she sneers. “Sleeping with your seventh guy this week is a real class act. But I guess it evens out to one per day.”

Marinette blinks as she leaves the elevator. “Seventh? I think you’ll find tonight was my second guy ever.”

“Really?” Lila smirks. “Because I could’ve sworn I heard something about you after school on Thursday in a hot-tub with three college guys. And then there’s a rumour going around two upperclassmen in the library with you under a desk –”

“At least boys _want_ to fuck me,” Marinette says brutally, forgetting for a moment that no boys have actually said that they want to fuck her. “You, I can’t say the same for.”

Lila tosses her hair, clearly stung. She moves to block the door. “Whatever. At least I’m not being called a slut by everyone – and I _do_ mean _everyone.”_ She grins, looking like the cat that’s got the cream. “Even Alya.”

That catches Marinette off guard. “What?”

“You heard me,” Lila grins. “Alya called you a gigantic slut. That’s your identifier. You should probably just move schools at this point. It’ll be less humiliating for you.”

“Like I’m going to take advice from a jealous virgin,” Marinette laughs, but it comes out more like a sob. She pushes past Lila and out the door, and runs home as fast as she can, forcing herself to ignore the tears that have started to stream down her face.

* * *

Luckily, by the next morning, Marinette has completely come to her senses. Lila is a liar, and Alya would not say such things about Marinette. The rest of the school, however… Marinette wouldn’t doubt it. Her mom comes up to her room just as Marinette is doing her hair, and hands her an envelope.

“Your boyfriend dropped this off,” she winks as Marinette tears the envelope open.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she rolls her eyes. Inside the envelope is a little thank you card with a glittery pink heart on it, and – Marinette gasps. A €200 gift voucher for _Gabriel_! “That’s really sweet of him!”

Sabine sits down on the chaise, and raises an eyebrow at Marinette. “You know, honey, I couldn’t help but notice he seemed a little… incredibly gay.”

Marinette nods with a laugh. “Oh, absolutely. We were just… trying something.”

“Don’t worry, Marinette, I understand,” Sabine says, trying to sound understanding, but very obviously trying not to laugh, and Marinette realises what she’s just said sounds like. “I dated a gay guy once, for a while – quite a long while, actually –”

“Please tell me you did _not_ marry and have children with him.”

Sabine lets her laughter loose. “Oh, no, your father is as straight as they come!” Her smile turns worryingly devilish. “In fact, he can be a little _too_ straight, if you know what I mean –”

“Mom!”

“Kidding, honey,” Sabine chuckles. She gets up and pats Marinette’s shoulder. “Looks like it’s going to be a quiet day. How about you head out and spend that gift voucher?”

Marinette contemplates sulking in the house all day, but then she remembers what Lila said to her last night, and a wicked grin spreads across her face. “Yeah, I think I will. I know _exactly_ what I’m going to spend it on.”

If Lila wants a slut, then that’s what she’s going to get.

* * *

To Marinette’s delight, _Gabriel_ lingerie has a sale on, meaning she manages to get ten different pieces and still have enough money left over for the sweater she’s had her eyes on. On her way home, she remembers Lara’s comment in World Literature, and stops in at her favourite fabric store to buy some plain red satin.

Lila and Lara won’t know what hit 'em.

* * *

Marinette is usually a very careful seamstress, but when she gets started on her new project she finds herself sewing with reckless abandon, pricking her fingers left, right and centre and letting out screeches and yelps every time she does so. She’s just so _angry_ – angry at the boys who picked on Marc to the point where he’s decided to hide his true identity, angry at her classmates for deciding she’s a bimbo for allegedly having a sex life, but most of all angry at society for how it treads on virtually everyone except white straight cisgender men. She gets herself bad with a particularly difficult stitch and properly screams, and that’s when her dad pokes his head up through the trapdoor.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, moustache twitching when he sees the nest of fabric she’s sitting in. “Because it sounds like you’re having sex up here, which I know can’t be true because you have a homosexual boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Marinette groans, but Tom shrugs, moustache twitching more than ever.

“No big deal, it happens to everyone, I was gay, once, for a while, no big deal, we all do it –”

“Dad,” Marinette interrupts, “could you close the door?”

Tom looks at her seriously, his moustache calmed. “Are you going to be OK?”

Marinette tries for a smile, but it comes out more of a grimace. “Yeah.”

There’s something sad about Tom’s smile as he moves to shut the trapdoor, but something incredibly proud too. “Give ‘em hell,” he says quietly.

* * *

Lila feels great when she arrives to school on Monday morning. She’s spent Sunday figuring out how to work her ‘internship with Gabriel’ into the conversation, assuming most of the class will be too hungover to question it. And Marinette is no longer an issue. Your best friend allegedly calling you a slut would be enough to break anyone’s spirit. No, Lila’s certain Marinette will be skiving today, possibly transferred out by the end of the week.

Which is why she’s horrified to discover that no one is interested in listening to her story; they’re all whispering behind their hands or in tight groups. Lila catches Marinette’s name, and realises today’s topic of discussion is probably the scandal on Saturday night.

She can live with that.

“Hey, guys,” Lila says sweetly, heading over to where Ms Bustier’s class is huddled. “What’s the news?”

Rose is practically vibrating when she turns to Lila, who isn’t sure if it’s with excitement or just too much caffeine. “Didn’t you hear about what happened at Chloé’s party?” she gasps, far too loudly to be sans-caffeine. “Marinette and Marc –”

“You know, I did hear something about that,” Lila dramatically sighs, an idea coming to mind. “I actually ran into Marinette as she was leaving. I don’t like to say bad things about people, but she was really –”

“HOLY SHIT!” Kim shouts, right in her ear.

Lila winces, pissed. She’d been about to work the story into how Marinette had been really horrid to her when they’d run into each other, but Kim’s shout has thrown her off her rhythm. “What’s the matter, Kim?” she says, faking sweetness even though she really wants to shake his vocal chords out of him. “What –”

She sees what.

It’s Marinette.

And she looks nothing like the tearful heap she’d been on Saturday night.

Marinette is wearing tight black skinny jeans, black stilettos, and a tight black corset-style top with a scarlet ‘A’ stitched onto her left breast. The cut is very flattering on her, emphasising her tiny waist and pushing her chest up, and making her skin seem more flawless than usual. A string of pearls glimmers around her neck, and her hair is loose of its usual pigtails, lightly curled and bouncing on her shoulders. But the worst part is, she’s smirking madly from under a pair of dark sunglasses. Lila finds herself speechless with rage – Marinette has literally reclaimed the slut label.

Marinette pauses at the join between Lila’s group and a group of students from the other class, grinning at the boy next to Lila. To Lila’s shock, she reaches up and shuts the boy’s gaping mouth with her hand. “Careful you don’t catch flies, Claude,” she says sweetly, but there’s an undertone to it that drips with confidence. She catches sight of Lila staring at her, and tilts her head. “What’s your problem?”

Lila finds her voice at last. “You really want to know what my problem is?” she splutters. Marinette smirks again.

“No. That was a rhetorical question. I don’t want to hear anything from you.” And with that, she turns and sashays towards the stairs.

“We are not friends!” Lila yells after her, trying to sound like she’s really upset at what Marinette’s saying rather than pissed that she’s lost this round.

“Oh, rats,” Marinette calls back.

“You’re horrid!”

“Ooh, burn!”

Marinette’s out of earshot, and Lila breathes heavily, trying not to lose her cool. _Goddamnit! This wasn’t what was supposed to happen! Curse you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng!_

* * *

Marinette’s newfound confidence continues to grate on Lila throughout the day. In first period History, Kim is blatantly staring at Marinette’s cleavage. When she catches him, she doesn’t make a production of it; instead, Marinette casually stretches into a yawn so the entire back of the class gets an even better view. In third period Maths, she drops her pencil, and _naturally_ has to get up and bend over to pick it up. And _of course_ she has a perfect, round little behind. Because Marinette seems to exist solely to piss Lila off.

Lunch is worse. Because she’s no longer confined to the classroom, Marinette doesn’t have to be subtle about showing off her body. She leans down on the tray rail as she reads the menu, giving the entire room a second look at her annoyingly perfect butt, and saunters along the tray rail as if she has nothing better to do, occasionally glancing back at the several teenage boys who are following her, who pretend not to be staring at her. The third time this happens, she picks up a spoon from her tray and _licks_ it with a sultry smirk, causing her entire entourage to turn bright red. One boy actually stumbles backwards onto the floor, and Marinette bends down _again_ to help him up, the spoon still in her mouth. She continues along the rail to the desert counter, where she runs into Suzanne Blanchard glaring at her. Lila, seated a few feet away, hopes this is the moment Marinette gets put in her place, but to her horror, Marinette pulls the spoon out of her mouth with a pop and sends Suzanne hurrying away, looking as though she’s been mortally offended. Marinette giggles and turns back around, coming face to face with Ms Bustier.

Lila grins. _At last, someone’s going to put a stop to this nonsense._

“What are you doing?” Ms Bustier says suspiciously. Marinette throws her spoon down and snatches up a bowl of cafeteria custard cake.

“Nothing,” she says hurriedly. To Lila’s annoyance, Ms Bustier nods and leaves, and Marinette saunters off to join her friends. What’s worse, Adrien is staring right at her chest, until she says something and he begins far too obviously looking anywhere _but_ at her chest.

 _So you’ve got the attention of half the school, including Agreste,_ Lila thinks bitterly. _Well played, Dupain-Cheng. Well. Fucking. Played._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well-played indeed, Marinette.


	4. How a scam created to piss off an annoying classmate turned into an Actually Profitable Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette starts to regret her decision to become the school slut, but it's too late to turn back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got some reviews that kind of put me off writing this for a while. But I've decided to try and fix a bit of what they were complaining about by showing Marinette's thoughts following her decision to flaunt herself.
> 
> I was slut-shamed in high-school by my (now ex) best friend and my ex-boyfriend, and I kind of went off the rails for a while following that. But I regretted what I was doing almost as soon as I started it, which is the kind of what I tried to portray in this chapter. The thing is, once you've got a reputation in high-school, even if it's based on a spur-of-the-moment decision, you can't shake it.
> 
> Once again, slut-shaming is bad, folks. And you're a shitty person if you do it.

Marinette is exhausted when she gets home, and collapses onto her chaise, kicking her shoes off. Who knew pretending to be something she’s not would be so tiring? Is this how Lila feels all the time?

Nah. Lila profits off lying. Honestly, Marinette isn’t profiting much off pretending to be this… skank character she’s created. The problem is, last week’s scandal was one that would have been forgotten if she hadn’t kept fanning the flames. Big deal, girl over the age of consent loses virginity to boy also over the age of consent.

But her new look, one she created in a moment of anger, isn’t something she can just… give up. Christ, she really just spent the whole day going out of her way to act overly sexual, didn’t she? The problem is, even with just one day, it’s become what people expect of her. There’s really no way out of this mess she’s created for herself.

OK, so maybe no more bending over unnecessarily. She glances at where her Kwami has landed on the cushion next to her face.

“Tikki,” she groans, “what have I gotten myself into, and how do I get out of it?”

Tikki sighs. “A mess, Marinette. This is a huge mess. Lila’s unbearable, isn’t she? I don’t think I’ve met someone so… _awful_ and full of themselves since General George McClellan.”

“Isn’t he the guy who thought his troops were crying because they loved him so much?”

“That’s the one… Marinette…” Marinette looks up at her Kwami, who is gazing at her with an uncharacteristically lost look in her eyes. “I… I don’t know how you’re going to get out of this.”

Marinette sits up and starts working on removing her corset, which is suddenly far too tight. “Guess I just have to ride the wave out.”

* * *

So she does. She wears her new slutty clothes to school, doesn’t complain about boys ogling her, and insists to Alya that she’s fine.

“Really, Als, I’m happy. This is my new thing.”

Alya looks seriously worried, which is the opposite of what Marinette is hoping for. “Are you sure? Because… Marinette, I’m really worried that you’re doing this… you know, sleeping with a lot of people all of a sudden… because you’re trying to get over Adrien.”

Marinette squirms awkwardly. “Well… maybe the first guy was, but the others were because I just wanted to. Honestly.”

Alya, thankfully, leaves it alone after that, but Marinette can feel her still-worried looks in class. At least Marc isn’t being bullied anymore. No one’s any the wiser as to what actually happened in that hotel room.

Or so she thinks until Milo Anouilh approaches her as she’s leaving the locker room bathroom during PE. She’s edited her gym clothes to match her new look; her shorts are now tiny, and her pale pink top is cropped to show her tummy and has her standard red ‘A’ stitched to the breast. Milo, on the other hand, is wearing basketball shorts a couple of sizes too big, and a XXL Billabong T-shirt. He’s a nervous, shrimpy little thing, with round Professor Trelawney glasses and a pronounced stutter – i.e. classic bottom-of-the-food-chain nerd, and he’s sweating like a superhero on a lie detector when he approaches Marinette. She takes pity on him and smiles kindly.

“Hey, Milo.”

“H-hey, M-M-Marinette,” Milo says weakly. “Uh, M-Marc told me what you d-d-did for him.”

It’s official, everyone’s heard about it, even the people who didn’t come to Chloé’s party (Milo was invited, but the kid’s scared of his own shadow, so there’s no way he was there). Marinette pastes a flirty smile onto her face. “Well, y’know, it was equally enjoyable for me –”

“N-no,” Milo says, taking a deep breath. “I m-m-m-mean, he told me what you r-r- _really_ did for him.” Marinette freezes, and Milo continues, “I was just… w-w-w-wondering… if you could m-m-maybe do the same… for m-me? I-I’ll pay you €100.”

Marinette stares at him in shock, trying to process what he’s just asked her. Milo looks terrified after thirty seconds of silence.

“Shit,” he says, paling. “I-I’m so s-sorry, Marinette, I shouldn’t have a-a-asked, I’ll just l-leave you al-l-lone forever now, G-God, I’m s-so sorry –”

“Yeah,” Marinette mutters, “you probably should be.” It was one thing for Marc to ask her for that favour; they’re old friends, and she’d seen first-hand what he was going through. Milo is a completely different case, and she stares him down as he drags a hand down his sweaty visage, before turning and walking away. She freezes when he shouts after her, though.

“I could s-still t-t-t-tell people we d-did!”

Marinette turns, looking furious, and Milo clamps his hands over his mouth. “S-shit,” he says again. “I-I didn’t m-m-mean to –”

“If you’re actually considering threatening me,” Marinette says coldly, “who do you think the rest of the school will believe? You or me?”

“You,” Milo whispers. “I’m sorry, M-Marinette, I j-just – w-well, you helped M-M-Marc, s-so I just th-th-thought –”

It hits her that Milo is in almost the same position as Marc was. While he’s not being beaten up for his sexuality, his stutter and demeanour almost certainly make him a prime target for being pushed around. Marinette sometimes really hates her natural urge to protect people like him.

“I want a €100 giftcard in my locker tomorrow morning,” she decides. “For either _Gabriel_ or _Marché Saint Pierre._ Actually, make it _MSP_. There’s this bolt of really nice pale pink satin I’ve had my eye on.” She fixes him with steely eyes. “After that, you can tell everyone that I made out with you and let you fondle my chest, and it was the best twenty minutes of your life.”

“€100 for s-s-second base?” Milo complains. “T-that’s a bit p-p-pricey –”

“That’s my price,” Marinette says coolly. She sighs sadly. “You know, Milo, if you’d been a gentleman and asked me on a date, I might have said yes.” She turns to leave. “€100. My locker. Tomorrow morning.”

* * *

By Thursday afternoon, Marinette’s sexual exploits are once again the talk of the school. She can feel Alya, Nino, and Adrien giving her worried glances throughout the day, and a lot of her other friends keep staring at her with pity written all over their faces, but when William Mignard approaches her on Friday morning with two €50 bills and a slightly nervous expression, Marinette realises that whether she likes it or not, she’s open for business. By the time she goes home, she has unofficially officially hooked up with William in the library, got to third base with Théodore Chausson during third period Chemistry, allowed Davy Lapouche to see her topless, and let Grégoire Allais motorboat her after school. She’s also nearly €300 richer – not counting Davy’s contribution, which was a voucher for 50% off all beauty products at Melvita. They’re operating under the agreement that the gossip will be released at various points over the next week, mainly so Marinette has time to wave goodbye to what little of her good-girl reputation she has left.

* * *

It comes as a bit of a surprise when Ms Bustier asks her to stay behind after class on Wednesday the next week. Marinette obediently stands in front of the desk as her classmates leave, nodding to Alya and Nino when they wave to her, and ignoring Adrien’s pitying glance her way. Ms Bustier waits until the room has emptied completely, then gets up and checks outside the classroom door for eavesdroppers. Marinette waits in silence. She remembers the last time she was told to wait after school by Ms Bustier, when the teacher had quietly but seriously informed her that she understood Marinette had a lot going on, and that she wouldn’t be in trouble if she was ‘late for class’ or ‘had to leave suddenly’. It had made Marinette rather suspicious that Ms Bustier knew about her identity, but the teacher had simply winked and sent her on her way. Ms Bustier looks just as serious now, but in a different way. A worried way.

“What’s going on with you, Marinette?”

“What do you mean, Ms Bustier?” Marinette frowns. Ms Bustier sighs and gestures to Marinette’s outfit choice for the day: black skinny jeans and pale pink wedges with a pale pink corset-style top. The red ‘A’ is like a smear of blood against the pale fabric.

“This.”

“Oh,” Marinette tries for an airy laugh. It comes out choked. “Well, I thought I’d try an experiment based on Hester Prynne’s experience – you know, social isolation… and whatnot.”

Ms Bustier frowns. “I’ve been hearing some rumours.”

Marinette makes a face. “Oof. When did teachers start getting involved in idle teenage gossip?”

“That would be when you all started constantly posting the most mundane things on social media,” Ms Bustier says, a slight smile appearing on her face. “‘Kim is getting a #lucozade from #franprix #livingthatcrazylife’. And whatnot.”

“No way, he got another Lucozade?” Marinette says dryly, making Ms Bustier chuckle a little.

“My point is, Marinette, I’m wondering if I should be worried about you. Alya mentioned something to me during lunch –”

“Honestly, it’s just an experiment,” Marinette insists. “It’s a modern-day interpretation of the events of _The Scarlet Letter._ Performance art based on a movie.”

Ms Bustier raises an eyebrow. “I know you read the book, Marinette. Your essay a few days ago was one of a handful that actually managed not to mention the Demi Moore film.”

“Seriously?”

Ms Bustier sighs, chuckling again. “Honestly, if I get one more essay about baths or her terrible accent or her relationship with Ashton Kutcher… So, you’re sure you’re OK and there’s nothing to be worried about?” Marinette nods. “Then you’re free to go.”

Marinette leaves the classroom chewing on her lip and feeling that Ms Bustier knows a lot more than she’s letting on. She passes two of Suzanne’s friends - Zacharie Bescond, Suzanne’s boyfriend, and Anita Gaudin – and braces herself for the flurry of glares, muttered insults, and flinches if she gets too close.

They never come. Instead, Zacharie looks away, and Anita twists her hands, staring at the floor. If Marinette didn’t know better, she’d say they looked almost _guilty._

Maybe it’s because Suzanne and Lara are nowhere to be seen, leaving them without the need to scorn her.

Well, all the better for Marinette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you catch my John Mulaney reference?
> 
> Also there's an American civil war joke. I have a lot of those because a lot of funny shit happened during the American civil war, but the first three Union generals are my favourite historical thing to make fun of (aside from Victor Hugo's idea of seduction. He sent a live bat to his fiancée. In an envelope.).


	5. How Marinette Dupain-Cheng went from Assumed Trollop to An Actual Homewrecker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a superhero pays her a visit, Marinette says the wrong thing while drunk. And when she manages to briefly befriend some of her 'enemies', she realises her need to protect the helpless is probably going to be her downfall one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried a bit writing this chapter. This is where the angst starts. You have been warned.
> 
> Slut-shaming is bad, folks.

Marinette knows she shouldn’t drink on a school night, but _Kwami-dammit_ , she has had a difficult couple of weeks. Her alleged trysts with William, Théodore and Davy have gone public, while Grégoire is waiting for tomorrow, and the scandalised looks have almost doubled – in both frequency and intensity. Thus, she feels she’s more than earned her plastic bottle filled with vodka and orange juice. Vodka because wine feels too decadent, and orange juice because vodka on its own tastes like gasoline. She’s sitting on her roof, taking turns between chugging from the bottle and mumbling an angry diatribe aimed at mainly Lila and Suzanne, and generally feeling a bit pathetic – especially since Tikki refused to join her, instead giving her a very disapproving look and zooming off to raid the cookie jar. Marinette’s drunk enough that by the time Chat Noir lands on her balcony, she’s not even startled.

“What’re you doin’ here?” she mumbles grumpily – not because of his presence, but she just feels really shitty tonight and it seems she’s taking that out on the poor leather-clad furry.

“Hello to you too,” Chat Noir raises an eyebrow. “How’s my favourite Princess?”

“Eh, she’s been better.” Marinette slugs more of her concoction, and Chat tilts his head curiously.

“Whatcha drinkin’?”

Marinette squints at the bottle. “Well, about an hour ago it was 40% vodka and 60% juice, but I topped it up and I think the percent-ent” she struggles to enunciate the word “-entage has reversed. Or somethin’.”

Chat Noir chuckles awkwardly and sits in front of her. “Should I be worried about you?”

“What is with everyone asking me that lately?” Marinette mutters. Chat Noir looks awkward.

“Just… one of your classmates mentioned… he was worried you might be going through something right now…”

“Fucking snitch,” Marinette scowls. “None of his fucking business, whoever he was…” She fixes Chat Noir with a steely glare. “Who told you?”

Chat squirms, and she glares harder. “One of your close friends,” he says at last. “He’s been worried for a few weeks now… said something about you going on a date with an older guy?”

That narrows it down to Adrien or Nino. And considering Nino has been surprisingly chill throughout all of this, Marinette has a good idea of who snitched to Chat Noir.

“What else has _Adrien_ been telling you about me that wasn’t his business?” Marinette grumbles. She can feel the rising tide of anger inside of her, and knows she’ll probably end up saying something she’ll regret, but it’s one thing for Adrien Agreste to pity the class whore, and another thing entirely for him to gossip about her sex life to superheroes.

“Nothing, I swear!” Chat Noir says, confirming that it was indeed Adrien who told him. “He just said he was… really worried about his good friend Marinette –”

The tide breaks, and Marinette’s anger crashes down. She knows it’s unfair, but suddenly all of her anger from the way her classmates have treated her is directed at Adrien Agreste and his big mouth. After all, it _is_ kind of his fault this whole thing started (if only in a very cause-and-effect, roundabout kind of way).

“Good friend my _ass_ ,” Marinette says rudely. “Who I get into bed with is none of Adrien Agreste’s fucking business.”

Chat Noir suddenly looks very unsure. “You guys _are_ friends, right?”

Marinette lets out a noise that is somewhere between a cackle and a sob. “Good friends don’t gossip about other friends’ sex lives,” she chokes out, suddenly eloquent. “Good friends don’t pity other friends for personal choices. And good friends don’t hurt their friend over and over and over and never apologise for it!”

All the things Adrien has done to hurt her – the time he didn’t bother to show up to get ice-cream, the time he asked her to wingman him on a date with another girl, and then, most recently, when he told her to her face that he loved someone else after she’d _honestly_ made it _blatantly_ obvious she liked him - spring to mind. It’s not his fault that he’s not interested, but a bit of tact would have been nice instead of just dropping it on her like a flying house on a witch. All the times he told her to back off from Lila or Chloé, even when Marinette was suffering at their hands. And telling Chat Noir about her sex life is the last straw.

“I hate Adrien Agreste,” she says quietly. She doesn’t, really, but right now, she kind of does. Chat Noir stares at her, looking a little like he’s been slapped. Kwami knows why. It’s not like Marinette hates _him._ She reaches for the lucky charm bracelet around her wrist – the one Adrien made her – and pulls it off. “Fat lot of good this thing’s done for me,” she mutters, and drops it on the floor. It doesn’t break, doesn’t even bounce, but Chat Noir still flinches like he’s been hit. “God, I’m tired.” She gets unsteadily to her feet and stumbles over to the trapdoor. “Goodnight, Chat Noir.”

She hears him mutter something that sounds a little like a choked goodnight, but she’s too tired to really respond or even pay him that much attention. All Marinette can do is collapse into bed, thankful she’d had the sense to put on her pyjamas before getting drunk on the roof.

She can still hear Chat Noir’s footsteps above her, but after a few minutes he takes off with a thump, and she’s left to fall into an uneasy rest.

* * *

Marinette can’t remember anything of her night when she wakes up. All she knows is that her breath smells terrible, the inside of her mouth tastes like the gap between two bus seats, and she can’t find her stupid friendship bracelet anywhere. She pulls on dark denim jeans, light blue patent heels, and a baby blue satin corset with a little white flower on it, takes three croissants for breakfast, and brushes her teeth twice, but none of it rids her of her icky feeling that she did something stupid last night.

Adrien has red-rimmed eyes when she walks into class, but that’s not the weirdest thing. The weirdest thing is that Nino is glaring at her. There’s something a little unsure about it, like he doesn't quite know _why_ he’s glaring at her, but it’s unsettling. Alya nudges Marinette in the ribs when she sits down.

“Did you do something last night?”

“If by something you mean _someone_ ,” Marinette replies automatically. Alya squints at her, then sniffs.

“You smell hungover.”

“You can smell hangovers?”

“Easy. Too much toothpaste, with an undertone of…” she sniffs again, “…vodka, I’m guessing?” Alya pauses, scanning Marinette. “Besides, you look like you got hit by a truck.”

“Oh, God,” Marinette groans. “I can’t even remember what I was doing last night. I’m going to the bathroom to try and reverse some of the damage.”

* * *

Her reflection makes her wince. She barely glanced at herself that morning, and her parents were already in the bakery by the time she left, so no one was there to point out the dark makeup smudges under her bloodshot eyes, nor the birds’ nest she’s currently sporting for a hairdo. Luckily, she keeps a foldable hairbrush for such emergencies. The makeup can’t be removed, but a little water treatment has them looking more smoky than smudgy. Unfortunately, her eyes are still red with nothing much Marinette can do about them.

Her less-than-stellar morning goes from bad to worse when Suzanne walks into the bathroom. Marinette braces herself for a comment, but it never comes. Suzanne ignores her, running a tap and splashing water onto her face. Marinette rolls her eyes and is about to leave when she notices that Suzanne’s eyes are rimmed red too. In fact, she might actually be _crying._

“What, is today the ‘red-eyed championship’ or something?” Marinette mutters to herself, then louder, “You have a rough night too?” Suzanne ignores her, but she makes a sound that might be a sob, and Marinette once again curses her need to help the unhappy. “You need to talk about it?” Suzanne continues ignoring her, but her shoulders start shaking with the effort of not sobbing, and Marinette approaches her slowly. This time Suzanne does react, flinching away, and Marinette rolls her eyes. “Sorry. I forgot that other peoples’ personal lives are none of my business.” Oh, the irony.

Suzanne looks up at that. “Not that it’s any of your business, you… _rhymes-with-futon_ …” (She actually says ‘rhymes-with-futon’ instead of just calling Marinette ‘une putain’) “but Zacharie’s parents are getting a d-d-d-divorce!” Suzanne lets out an unhappy wail. “Just… what will our church say?”

Marinette doesn’t know what _she’s_ going to say, let alone the church. She’s wondering if she should maybe just let nature take its course here, when something completely unprecedented happens: Suzanne grabs Marinette and starts sobbing into her shoulder.

“There… there,” Marinette manages after a moment. She pats Suzanne’s head awkwardly as she continues. “Sometimes… our boyfriends’ parents get divorced… and the important thing is to remember that it’s _not your fault_.” Maybe the head-patting gets harder as Marinette goes on, but to be fair, she’s dealt with a lot of crap from Suzanne lately. After a moment, Suzanne manages to get her tears under control, and pulls away from Marinette.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, watery-eyed. Marinette awkwardly smiles at her, but suddenly Suzanne frowns. “Wait… why are you being so nice to me?”

Marinette shrugs, about to reply with the cliché but true ‘you looked like you needed it’ but Suzanne interrupts her, looking ridiculously excited.

“Oh my gosh,” she says, beaming. “I finally got through to you, didn’t I?”

All Marinette can do is nod helplessly, and Suzanne squeals deafeningly and (to Marinette’s extreme shock) pulls her into a tight hug.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” she says loudly, right in Marinette’s ear. “I am so, so sorry for all the horrible things I said about you, I hope we can be friends! Please say we can be friends!”

“Uh,” Marinette says dumbly. “Sure.”

Suzanne squeals again, and tightens their hug, and Marinette, in spite of the crap Suzanne has given her in the past, wonders if things are starting to look up.

* * *

And they are actually really good friends – for about a day and a half. It’s kind of nice, to be honest. It almost manages to drown out the reaction to the fresh gossip about Grégoire motorboating her. It turns out Suzanne isn’t much of a fan of Lara either, and admits she kind of wanted to laugh when Marinette called her a twat a few weeks ago. During World Literature, as Lara makes another point about how she doesn’t believe Hester Prynne was worthy of redemption in the end, Suzanne turns to Marinette and mouths ‘twat’ at her, forcing Marinette to hurriedly turn her laugh into a cough. It gives her somewhere to sit at lunch too, since Nino is still inexplicably glaring at her, while Alya looks confused and Adrien looks like someone has kicked his puppy. Marinette forces herself to ignore the three of them with their heads together all through lunch, apparently conspiring about something. Suzanne can actually be quite funny when she isn’t thumping a bible. And there’s something particularly satisfying about Lila’s face when she sees Marinette laughing with the very girl she had been relying on to take Marinette down.

The next day at break, Suzanne runs up to Marinette, in tears again.

“Zacharie is in the hospital!” she wails. “He’s in so much pain and the doctors don’t know why!”

Marinette hugs her sympathetically. “It’ll be OK,” she murmurs. She accidentally makes eye-contact with Adrien over Suzanne’s shoulder. He still looks sad, but there’s confusion in there too. Marinette looks away.

* * *

Of course, all good things have to come to an end, and it’s in fourth period PE that things go wrong for Marinette. She’s just pulled on her gym top when Suzanne storms into the changing room. Marinette doesn’t immediately pick up on the thunder in the other girl’s face, and holds out her arms for a hug.

“Hey –” she starts cheerfully, but suddenly the wind is knocked out of her when Suzanne slaps her hard across the face. Suzanne storms back out of the locker room, leaving Marinette reeling in shock. Marinette can hear Alya asking if she’s OK, but her attention is caught by Lila, who is grinning smugly. Did Lila lie to Suzanne about something to do with Marinette? What’s going on?

* * *

Marinette finds out exactly what’s going on when she goes to the bathroom before lunch. Anita Gaudin is in there alone, looking panicked, but her face goes from milk white to death white when Marinette enters, and she grabs Marinette by the arm.

“Marinette,” she gasps, “I am so, so sorry! I’m so – I can’t – I –”

Marinette frowns. “Is this something to do with what just happened with Suzanne? Because she slapped me crazy hard at the start of fourth –”

“Yes,” Anita wails, “and it’s all my fault!”

Marinette blinks. “Unless you convinced her I’m going to convert her into a whore and drag her down to Hell with me, I don’t know how –”

“It’s Zacharie,” Anita sniffles. “Suzanne’s really against sex before marriage, and he’s not, and I’m not, and we were just messing around, and – and he’s got _chlamydia!”_

“Off you?”

Anita nods miserably. “I was born with it.”

Marinette frowns. “But it should have been preventable if you used a condom –” Anita wails again, and Marinette groans. “You didn’t use a condom.”

“I take a pill for that.”

“But it doesn’t protect against –” Marinette sighs and collects herself. Of _course_ these kids had missed the classes about safe sex. It was just her luck, wasn’t it? “I still don’t see why Suzanne’s mad at me.”

Anita sniffs. “His mom asked him who he’d got it from, and he lied and said you, to protect me.” She blinks her big brown eyes up at Marinette. “But it was me. And it’s OK, Marinette. I’ll just tell everyone that it was me, and I’ll get in trouble with the church, and my parents, and I’ll lose my friendship with Suzanne, and I’ll deal with the fall-out.” She’s shaking, and Marinette realises that the fall-out for Anita, who comes from a background not dissimilar to Adrien’s when it comes to control and punishment, will be very different to the fall-out for Marinette.

“I could have chlamydia,” Marinette says shakily. “Everyone knows I’ve been… sleeping around…”

To her surprise, Anita is shaking her head. “No, you’re not. A real whore can’t admit it to herself.” She smiles shakily. “I would know.”

“I’ll do it,” Marinette says again. “If it means you won’t… y’know.” Her ‘helping the downtrodden’ thing is really going to end up destroying her, isn’t it?

But Anita is suddenly pulling Marinette into a hug, and she’s crying again, and she’s whispering “Thank you!” over and over, and Marinette can only pat her back and hold her breath for the repercussions.

* * *

As it turns out, the repercussions come far quicker than she’d imagined, and it was beyond anything Marinette had expected. A group of students are standing outside the school as soon as the bell rings, brandishing hand-painted protest signs and shouting angrily. The bright cardboard and glittery writing contrast with the messages in a way that’s almost _comedic_.

_Exodus 20:14_

_Jezebel_

_Jeremiah 13:27_

_Keep François Dupont Disease Free!_

_James 4:17_

And her personal favourite, held up by Lara and a boy she doesn’t recognise:

_Expel Marinette Dupain-Cheng!_

Suzanne and Lara are there, of course, and the crowd is mainly made up of their followers. But what really shocks Marinette is the girl holding the _James 4:17_ sign. Oh, the bitter irony.

“Lila!” Marinette marches towards her, and drags the liar away from the crowd, ignoring how the shouts increase in intensity as she actually dares to touch one of them. “Never took you for a bible-thumper. Doesn’t it forbid falsehoods?”

Lila shrugs. “Don’t know, don’t care. I’m just doing my bit to keep this school _clean.”_

Marinette’s eyes narrow at the dig on her alleged STD. “Look, if you’re mad because I somehow managed to come out of this more popular than you –”

“Let’s not mistake popularity for _infamy_ ,” Lila smirks. “I’ll be praying for you, Marinette.” She rejoins the crowd, and the shouts increase in volume once again. Marinette forces herself to turn away, but almost immediately regrets it. Standing opposite the crowd is a little group made up of Alya, Nino, and Adrien, and they’re all staring at her with a mixture of sadness, worry, and a little horror. Marinette doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know what to do. But at last, Adrien speaks up.

“Screw all these people, Marinette,” he says fiercely, all his sadness, all his determination to avoid her eyes completely gone. Marinette feels a sob in her throat, and forces it back. She tries to smile, but finds she really can’t.

“Didn’t you hear?” she says tonelessly. “I already have.”

And she walks away, not looking back once, and ignoring the tears that have started to drip down her face.


	6. Interlude: The eternal question of whether one should believe everything one hears.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien's view of the whole situation might be a little different from how some of you expected it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this might be the longest chapter yet.
> 
> It was one of the most emotional to write so far.
> 
> It's also entirely from Adrien's perspective, which I don't think we've seen since chapter one?
> 
> Enjoy!!

In retrospect, Adrien really wishes it hadn’t taken Marinette sleeping with someone else for him to realise he has feelings for her. For starters, it’s completely unfair to Marinette, who has her own life and is her own, wonderful person, and doesn’t need a home-schooled, socially-inept idiot pining over her. And secondly, it’s pretty much the worst way to realise you have feelings for someone. When Alya dropped it on him that Marinette ‘got laid’, he was at first utterly confused, and then when Nino explained it, he felt oddly sick – but in his chest rather than his stomach. He worried about it all of Monday afternoon (and stupidly chose worrying about it over actually _talking_ to Marinette), all the way through Monday night, and then thought he was having a heart attack when she walked into class on Tuesday wearing the Chat Noir top.

Which, by the way, left him with even more confused feelings that were a mix between _she’s a fan of me!_ and _oh, gosh, those paw-prints are… in a place I should **not** be staring at!_ and the most confusing one, _holy Kwami, she looks insanely attractive right now!_

He’d nearly choked with laughter when she called Lara Boulet a twat.

When Marinette had emerged from the Principal’s office, he’d decided to ask her if she wanted to hang out with him at lunch. It was a spur of the moment decision, and she clearly didn’t expect it, which is why it makes no sense that he’s disappointed when she turns him down. He asks if she’ll be at Chloé’s party on Saturday night, and honestly kind of hoping she will be because maybe they can slow-dance again, which was really nice, and she might bring macarons, and maybe they could hang out together and talk because she seems happier since her date with Raoul, however horrible he feels about it, and maybe he can find out why she was sad before and make sure it doesn’t happen again for the rest of their lives because he hates seeing Marinette sad, it feels like something inside him is breaking when she looks like she’s having trouble smiling, and maybe he can make her laugh properly without playing a dumb prank on her, because Marinette’s laugh is among the best sounds in the world –

She says no. Of course she does. Marinette and Chloé don’t exactly get along, and Marinette is very busy working towards being the best fashion designer in the world. It’s actually pretty obvious that she wouldn’t go, in retrospect.

He still feels upset about it.

Tuesday night had ended with Plagg whinging that Adrien was thinking too much about Marinette and not enough about bringing Plagg more cheese, and Adrien dazedly (and very pointlessly) opening the cheese cabinet for Plagg to gorge himself. Plagg could have very easily phased through the door, but he’s lazy, and Adrien had fallen asleep to the sounds of the Kwami smacking his lips and the uneasy feeling that he’s missed something.

* * *

He wakes up at Kwami knows what hour of the night, unable to get back to sleep, and gets out of bed to stare over the Parisian landscape. Plagg is fast asleep in the trashcan, so there’s no question of taking him out for a run around Paris. Instead, Adrien gazes unseeingly over the city and wonders why Marinette is on his mind so much all of a sudden. She’s one of his best friends; his funny, smart, creative, cute – wait, scratch that. Cute isn’t the right word. _Beautiful_ , his mind supplies. _Gorgeous. Sexy. Insanely hot –_ Whoa. Where did that come from?

But she is.

Marinette is his beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, insanely hot best friend, who is also insanely smart, funny, creative, and overall perfect.

And he feels kind of bad for thinking that about her. Marinette clearly doesn’t think of him like that, and it feels almost… indecent, like being in someone’s room while they’re asleep and don’t know you’re there. He wants to say that it’s a sudden realisation, but he suspects he’s subconsciously thought that about her for a while and only now realised it. _Why now?_

Ironically, it’s the least sexy sentence in the world that snaps him to his conclusion – purely because it’s so unexpected. “More cheese for King Plagg,” Plagg says in his sleep, making Adrien jump about a foot in the air and his heart nearly pound out of his chest. And it’s the surprise that snaps his thoughts into place.

_I have a crush on Marinette Dupain-Cheng._

* * *

You would have thought, that having worked out that he had a crush on Marinette and was not, after all, dying, that everything would be so much simpler for Adrien Agreste, but the embodiment of bad luck lives in his pocket, so naturally things get much, much harder. Marinette barely talks to him at all Wednesday through Friday, but she spends a good deal of time texting someone and smiling at her phone, giggling occasionally and hiding the screen from Alya every time the journalist tries to sneak a peek. It’s probably nothing. And it’s none of his business.

But he misses talking to her.

* * *

Seeing her at the party comes as a shock. First of all, because she’d said specifically that she wasn’t going, and second, because she’s got to be the hottest thing he has ever seen. She’s wearing a tiny black dress and patent black heels, with a leather jacket slung over her shoulder, and her hair is a mess and her lipstick is all smudged, and she looks more effortlessly sexy than the models at every Valentine’s Day photoshoot Adrien has ever been at.

“Hey, Marinette,” he says, trying very hard not to drop his Shirley Temple all over his shoes in shock. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

Marinette shrugs awkwardly. “Times change,” she laughs, but she doesn’t sound happy about it. “You here with a date or something?” She looks around, as if expecting to see a girl waiting for him. Adrien shakes his head, smiling fondly at her. The party had been kind of boring, but now that Marinette’s here maybe that slow-dancing thing can happen after all…

“Can I get you a drink or something?” he asks hopefully, but to his disappointment Marinette shakes her head.

“I’m probably just gonna leave,” she says. “I came here with a date, but he’s drunk so I figured I might as well get home.”

“You came with a date?” Adrien asks, frowning. He knows he has no right to be hurt over that, but it still stings that she turned down his invitation for someone else. Marinette lets out a weary chuckle.

“Could have sworn the whole school had their ears pressed against that bedroom door,” she jokes. “But that’s what we get for choosing to wait til we got here to – well, y’know.” Adrien feels his stomach drop as he realises why Marinette looks the way she does. She was having –

She was doing –

She just finished –

He barely registers Marinette reaching up and ruffling his hair. “See you at school, Agreste,” she says, and then suddenly her hand is gone from his hair and he wishes he could grab her arm and put her hand back and just stand there with her ruffling his hair for the rest of time, but she’s already walking towards the elevator.

“Yeah… see you,” Adrien manages sadly, and realises that for the first time she called him ‘Agreste’ and not ‘Adrien’. And it feels a bit like the carpet has just been pulled from under his feet.

* * *

On Monday, Marinette is somehow even hotter than she was at the party, and her sense of humour in stitching the red ‘A’ to her top makes her even more attractive to him. He tries his best not to stare, but it isn’t easy, because Marinette seems to actually want people to stare at her. He forces himself to think of nothing but camembert all of lunchtime, which would normally be a firm turn-off but it seems it might be outmatched by the definite turn- _on_ than is Marinette licking custard off her spoon in a frankly _obscene_ manner.

And then she has another corset on Tuesday, and another different one on Wednesday, and Adrien’s life is slowly starting to become kind of a living hell in which he’s stupidly fallen for his best friend who is interested in pretty much every guy in school but Adrien.

To make matters worse, it seems Marinette’s not even all that choosy about who she’s… going with. He sees her argue with Milo Anouilh during PE, and then the next day the news has broken that they made out in the locker room after school. Is Marinette into fighting with people? Because Adrien definitely isn’t. He’s not sure he could say something mean to Marinette even if he didn’t mean it and she wanted him to.

He’d been expecting someone like Chloé to have that for a kink, rather than the sweetest, kindest girl in the history of sweet, kind girls.

* * *

He asks Alya about what she thinks of the whole situation shortly after the news has broken that Marinette let Davy Lapouche see her topless, because surely the change in her best friend is worrying her.

Of course, maybe this is normal for Marinette and wasn’t something she felt was worth mentioning to Adrien. But still. If it isn't, Alya might know what started it.

She looks very awkward when he asks her if she knows what’s going on with Marinette, and sighs heavily before carefully replying.

“Marinette… had a crush on… this guy… for a really long time. And a few weeks ago, he hurt her feelings pretty badly. And I’m worried she’s going through so many… ‘boyfriends’… because she’s trying to get over the guy who hurt her.”

Adrien knows he shouldn’t ask, that it’s none of his business, but he can’t help himself. “Who’s the guy?” Because absolutely nobody has any business breaking Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s heart.

Alya fidgets about unhappily before replying. “I… don’t think she’d want me to tell you.”

Which, although it’s none of his business, stings. Why doesn’t Marinette want him to know? Is she embarrassed about it? Or (and this is the thought that has him worried) is she too uncomfortable with Adrien to talk to him about her feelings? Sure, it would be a little awkward now, what with him crushing on her, but Adrien feels secure enough in his friendship with Marinette to tell her about _his_ feelings.

Or, at least, felt.

* * *

He decides to pay her a visit as Chat Noir that night in order to figure out if it’s a Marinette problem or an Adrien problem, but when he arrives, he realises he couldn’t have picked a worse time.

She’s drunk.

And she’s really, _really_ angry that he’s ‘managed’ to find out about her sex life.

The blame for telling him is pinned on Adrien almost immediately, and Chat Noir nervously asks her if she and Adrien are friends.

Marinette lets out a noise that is somewhere between a cackle and a sob. “Good friends don’t gossip about other friends’ sex lives,” she shouts. “Good friends don’t pity other friends for personal choices. And good friends don’t hurt their friend over and over and over and never apologise for it!”

Chat Noir knows Adrien didn’t gossip about her sex life to anyone, because he didn’t, but he can see how it looks to Marinette. OK, so he did _technically_ do that.

But pitying her for her personal choices? Hurting her repeatedly and never apologising? Adrien has never pitied Marinette for anything! And the only times he can genuinely remember upsetting her were when they met, and at the wax museum a few weeks ago. And he’d apologised for both of those things…

He’s trying to figure out how to ask her about the last two when she says the words that stop him cold.

“I hate Adrien Agreste.”

Adrien can’t breathe.

His best friend hates him.

His best friend, who he adores to pieces, _hates_ him.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, who has previously been documented to only personally hate two people in the entire world, but still respects one of them and puts up with the other, hates _him._

He feels like he’s falling into a black hole, being slowly ripped apart by the forces of gravity while surrounded by nothing but endless darkness. He doesn’t register Marinette remove her bracelet and drop it on the floor until it lands, and when he sees which bracelet it is, he flinches.

It’s the one he made for Marinette.

It’s not a work of art, but he spent hours wondering what colour beads to use and what shapes she liked, and even longer picturing her face when she opened his present. He’d held tightly onto his own lucky charm – his _Marinette_ lucky charm – the whole time she was unwrapping it. Her smile when she realised what it was is one of his favourite memories.

He barely registers her telling him goodnight and only just manages a reply. The trapdoor shuts, and he’s left alone on the balcony, staring at the bracelet. After a moment, he kneels down, and cradles the bracelet in his hands like it’s a newborn kitten, staring at it and feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

He should leave.

He doesn’t realise until he’s home that he’s still holding the bracelet. When he drops his transformation, he once again feels the weight of his own bracelet in his back pocket. Plagg stares sadly at him.

“Kid,” he starts, but falls silent at Adrien’s expression. The little God floats down and curls up on Adrien’s pillow, and Adrien mechanically gets ready for bed and lies down next to him.

* * *

He wakes up with damp cheeks.

He must look pretty bad, because Nino instantly asks him what’s wrong when he sits down at their desk. All Adrien can manage is, “Marinette.. s-said she ha-hates me,” before his eyes sting and threaten to well up again, and he has to stop talking for fear of breaking down entirely.

Marinette only briefly glances at him when she enters, and she gets back up and leaves a few seconds later. When she comes back, only just missing the bell, she looks confused but happy, and from the whispers behind him, Adrien deduces that Marinette is avoiding telling Alya why.

To his shock, Marinette chooses to sit with Suzanne Blanchard at lunch instead of with him, Alya and Nino. Does she really hate Adrien that much that she’ll choose her tormentor’s company over his? But it does give him a chance to ask his friends about some of the things Marinette told him last night.

“Nino,” he says quietly, “did I do something recently that hurt Marinette? That I didn’t apologize for?”

Nino turns his frown from Marinette’s direction to Adrien’s. “The last thing I can think of where you were involved and Marinette got hurt was that time you ditched getting ice-cream with us and she spent the evening cursing the concept of true lo-” he abruptly cuts himself off with a squeak, and hurries to fill his mouth with lettuce. Adrien raises his eyebrows at Alya, who has the all-too-innocent look of someone who just elbowed her boyfriend hard in the ribs.

“Can you think of anything I might have done to offend her, Alya?”

Alya shakes her head. “Nope, not one thing,” she says firmly.

Adrien sighs and sinks down in his seat, picking listlessly at his cafeteria-battered fish, but perks up again when Nino pipes up, “There was that time you took her on that double date with Kagami. No offence, bro, but that was really sucky of you.” Alya gives him a frightening look, and he hurriedly tacks on, “Because Kagami was really rude to her. Not anything to do with Marinette’s feelings about you. Nope.”

Adrien feels himself wilt. Of course Marinette hates him. Even if she gets along with Kagami now, it doesn’t change the fact that she was on a double date with a girl who was rude to her and a guy she disliked.

Then another unpleasant thought occurs to him. What if the boy who hurt Marinette is Luka? Luka is the only guy Adrien has seen Marinette actually attracted to. Not to mention, he’d thought of Luka as his own friend too. But if Luka has hurt Marinette, that’s another friend he’s lost.

* * *

Marinette’s hugging Suzanne at break the next day, who is crying in her arms. She looks away when Adrien makes eye-contact, but his mind is spinning wildly. Marinette is comforting Suzanne, a girl who for the last few weeks has been actively trying to make Marinette’s life a living hell.

Marinette is kind enough to comfort her tormentor. She’s more than obviously kind enough to be nice to someone she hates.

Did Marinette only put up with him all this time because she felt sorry for him, like the way she’s feeling sorry for Suzanne right now?

The thought hurts, but it also serves to polish his mental image of Marinette as some sort of kindness goddess. _She was nice to me all this time, even though she hates me._

* * *

He nearly falls out of his seat in computer science when Rose shouts “Poor Marinette!” almost the second the teacher leaves the room. No one moves, all too used to Rose not knowing the meaning of ‘indoor voice’, but Adrien knows they’re all listening carefully.

Juleka mumbles something that sounds like a question, and Rose replies, “Look at what Louis Brun posted on Instagram!” Adrien hears Juleka gasp at whatever image Rose is showing her, and against his better judgement, he pulls out his phone and opens Instagram.

It’s worse than he thought. Louis Brun is apparently in Art class, and the picture is of Lara Boulet painting glitter onto a sign that reads ‘Expel Marinette Dupain-Cheng!’ The picture is captioned _Keep our school chlamydia free! We’re meeting on the steps after class for anyone who wants to join._

Adrien runs out of the computer lab the second the bell rings, and hurries to find Alya and Nino, who are leaving the library. He grabs both of them by the wrists and pulls them towards the stairs, ignoring their protests. “We need to find Marinette,” he explains. “A group of students posted on Instagram that they’re going to protest for her to be expelled.”

Alya pulls out her phone and checks the app, gasping when she comes across the image. Nino looks over her shoulder as they reach the balcony level, and the three of them speed up, agreeing that they need to find Marinette and get her out of the school while avoiding the protest.

They can’t find her anywhere.

“Maybe she already left?” Nino suggests. Alya and Adrien both agree that it’s likely, and head for the exit.

The protest is an unpleasant sight. Adrien feels a growl in his chest when he spots Lila holding up a glittery sign reading ‘James 4:17’. Oh, the irony.

“Oh no,” Alya whispers. Adrien and Nino follow her gaze, and to their horror, realise that although Marinette had indeed left the building, she hadn’t escaped the protest.

It feels like the longest three seconds of Adrien’s life when she turns to face them. Gone is the seductress, gone is the kind, compassionate friend, gone is the confidence of the class rep.

Marinette looks lost.

It feels like decades before Adrien finally manages to find his voice. “Screw all these people, Marinette,” he says, as fiercely as he can manage, desperate to let Marinette know he’s on her side no matter what.

Marinette stares at him with sorrow in her big blue eyes. “Didn’t you hear?” she says, and he hates how defeated she sounds. “I already have.”

And she walks away.

* * *

Patrol with Ladybug comes as a relief that night, because at least it feels normal. There haven’t been any Akumas in a few weeks now – which is a shame, since Adrien’s father is currently in Milan with his investors (who had refused to talk on a video call and had insisted he see them in person), meaning Chat Noir is free to come and go as he pleases (or at least, has less supervision). It’s with a jolt of guilt that he realises he hasn’t thought about Ladybug in weeks – not since realising he might have a crush on Marinette – and the thought scares him.

Then again, Ladybug is a girl. Maybe she can help.

“Buggaboo,” he starts upon seeing her, “I have a conundrum that you might be able to help me with.” He’s about to ask her what you should do if you’re crushing on someone who hates you, when he stops cold at the sight of her.

Ladybug usually exudes confidence; she’s a bright red light at the end of a gloomy tunnel, a beacon of good luck and hope. Today, she’s slumped against a wall, eyes downcast and mouth an unhappy rosebud. Chat Noir freezes and promptly puts all thoughts of asking for help out of his head; it seems that right now, Ladybug is the one who might need _his_ help. “Are you alright, M’Lady?”

Ladybug starts, and moves to wipe her eyes. Chat Noir frowns at the thought that she might have been crying. “Yeah, yeah, I’m… I’m fine,” she says, a little too quickly to sound sincere. “Come on, let’s just get patrol over with.” She yoyos off into the distance before he can stop her, and all Chat Noir can do is follow.

* * *

Thankfully, she seems a little more open to talking to him when they finish patrolling and meet up on the Eiffel Tower. “Chat,” she says, and he hates how unsure she sounds. “Would… would you still like me without the mask, even if I was… someone else entirely?”

“Of course,” Chat says automatically. It’s less reflex than just the utter and absolute truth. He’s not sure if he’d still be crushing on her now that Marinette has made herself comfortable in his heart, but it wouldn’t change the fact that he loves Ladybug as one of his best friends in the entire world. Still, something feels off about the question. “Why… why do you ask?”

Ladybug twists her fingers together the way she does when she’s upset about something, and Chat wonders if he should start worrying about her too. “What if… Chat,” she says seriously, looking away from her hands to stare him in the eye. “What if I… told loads of lies as a civilian?”

“You’re not Lila Rossi, are you?” he jokes, but she doesn’t stop staring at him with that scared look on her face that he’s grown to hate. “What sort of lies? If they’re about your identity, that’s pretty understandable –”

“No,” Ladybug whispers. “They’re – well, they kind of are, if I think about it…” She groans. “Chat… a month ago, I told a lie to my best friend, and it spiralled out of control because I decided to lie again and again to help various other people, and now the whole school thinks I’ve got chlamydia, and half the students are shouting for me to be expelled. Including that fucking Volpina girl.” She sniffles, and Chat Noir realises with horror that she’s crying again.

“Why did you lie in the first place?” he dares to ask. Oddly, some parts of her story sound very familiar, but he can’t place why.

Ladybug hiccups. “My friend wanted to set me up with this guy… who had hurt me pretty badly the last time we hung out. So I told her I had a date with an imaginary college student named Raoul to make her back off, and on Monday she became convinced I had sex with him, and from there… like I said, it just spiralled.”

No. No, it can’t be.

But it has to be. It makes perfect sense. She’s been lying all this time to keep up her image… lying to help boys who were otherwise being picked on… and covering up someone else’s mistake by claiming that she was the one with chlamydia… it fits his image of her – both of her – as unendingly kind all too well.

Ladybug is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is Ladybug.

Only he could fall for the same girl twice.

He realises she’s talking again, and snaps himself away from his realisation to listen to her. “It just… it sucks, you know?” she’s saying. “Because _Volpina_ made the first rumour about me so much worse. And I just wanted to piss her off, but I couldn’t stop pretending, and then people started paying me to lie for them… and I felt so bad for the girl who actually had chlamydia, because her parents suck, and now they all want me… ex-ex-expelled, and –”

“Need a hug?” he interrupts, and Ladybug – Marinette – nods rapidly.

He can’t tell her he knows who she is, he realises as he wraps his arms around her. Not tonight, at least. Tonight she needs someone she trusts, someone she can feel safe and at ease with, someone who will reassure her that it’s all going to be okay. And as he feels Maribug shaking against him as she tries to quell her sobs, he hopes desperately that it will all turn out okay for her.

No one deserves a happy ending more than the girl who is currently trembling in his arms.


	7. The Difference between Reputation and Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette opens up to her mother, and at last gets asked out on a date - although it won't end the way she expects it to...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a little while! Although if anyone is reading On Se Sent Comme Par Magie, I've mentioned in the notes there that I've taken a little time of writing to sort my own life out. But at last, chapter 7 is finished!!
> 
> I am, of course, referring to what Americans call 'soccer' whenever I say 'football'. I'm European and that's what we call it here. Well, actually in French it's called 'le foot' but that sounds frankly weird to people whose first language is English.
> 
> Enjoy!!

“Mom, you and Dad haven’t heard… anything about me lately, have you?”

Sabine raises an eyebrow. “Does this have anything to do with you wanting us to take a bullet for you a few weeks ago?”

Marinette gives a noncommittal shrug, continuing to sweep the shop floor. “Maybe. The rumour mill’s churning again, and I think the grist is infected.” She internally winces a second later at her choice of words, but her mother doesn’t seem any the wiser.

“Alya hasn’t said anything,” Sabine admits, “but I have been a little worried about you lately, hon. Especially with the way you’ve been dressing.” She makes a face. “No offense, but you kind-of look like a stripper.”

“Mom!”

“A high-end stripper,” Sabine hurriedly tacks on. “One for governors, or athletes… but still a stripper. Does that have to do with what the rumour mill is churning out?”

At that, the dam bursts, and Marinette’s crying before she can stop herself. Sabine listens to Marinette’s tearful explanation with a calm, understanding face, although Marinette can sense her mother’s worry increasing, especially when she gets to the part about agreeing to take the blame for Anita. When she finishes, Sabine is silent for a moment before opening her arms for a hug.

“You know,” she says after a moment, “I remember when I was in college, there was a girl in some of my classes who went through something similar.”

“What happened?” Marinette sniffles. Sabine sighs.

“She had a horrible reputation because she slept with a whole bunch of people,” she says bluntly.

“Mom!”

“Mostly guys.”

“ _Mom!”_

“She never really managed to move away from her reputation,” Sabine says sadly. “Even when she was in a committed relationship with her long-term boyfriend. But you could tell she hated her reputation more than anything. There wasn’t much she could do about it.”

That was not the answer Marinette was looking for. Sabine clearly notices this, because after a moment, she adds thoughtfully, “You’re a lot more resourceful than she was, though. And she got through it eventually. I have no doubt that you will too.” She tightens the hug. “I love you, honey.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

* * *

Marinette lies awake that night, pondering her mother’s words. Is she really more resourceful than the other girl was? Can she force past it on her own, or will she have to wait for graduation to lose her reputation? Will she ever lose her virginity, or be stuck pretending she lost it years ago for the rest of her life?

That’s one of the things that has kind of been bugging Marinette since she started her ‘business’. Although boys are queuing up in droves to pay her to say she had sex with them, no one has actually tried to get into her pants.

Not that she _wants_ to have sex with anyone at this school, really, but still. It’s a little insulting.

Forget sex, it would have been nice if a guy had at least asked her on a date instead of just thrusting a handful of euros at her and explaining whatever goddamn act he had in mind for them.

Of course, now that she’s ‘caught’ chlamydia, that’s never going to happen.

* * *

Of course, Marinette’s been wrong before.

Claude Duval isn’t an Adrien-level dreamboat, but he’s pretty handsome in his own right, with floppy brown hair, perma-tanned skin, and a perfect shiny smile. He plays on the school football team, has good grades, and decent style without being over the top.

And it doesn’t hurt that Aurore Bearéal says he’s an above-average kisser.

“Hey there, Marinette,” he smiles, sitting down across from her. Marinette jumps, having assumed she would be eating lunch alone.

“Hey, Claude,” she smiles politely, although a little tense that he’s about to pay her to say they’d done something involving handcuffs.

But, for once, nothing of the sort. Claude huffs his fringe out of his face, grinning at her. “So, I was wondering if you’d maybe like to go out tonight? Like a date.”

A month ago, Marinette would have said no, still hanging onto the hope that Adrien would notice her. But now, she practically lights up with happiness. “Yeah, sure,” she smiles. “That would be great.”

“Cool,” Claude nods. “Are there any particular restaurants you like, or we could go see a movie or something –?”

“A restaurant sounds nice,” Marinette grins. “How about that cute Italian place near the Pompidou Centre?”

Claude nods with a smile, getting back up. “It’s a date then.”

And as he walks away, Marinette wonders to herself if everything is going to turn out all right after all.

* * *

The date is going terribly.

You see, the problem is that Marinette’s never actually been on a proper date before. She’s never sat across from someone in a restaurant and tried to romantically bond with them. And apparently it’s not just Adrien who has the ability to set off her Babble Mode.

“So, Seasons 2 and 3 were actually the same cast as Season 1, but they brought in a new cast for Season 4, then selected fan favourites from both casts for Season 5,” she explains to Claude, who looks like he’s trying his best to understand (what is she thinking? Boys like Claude aren’t interested in reality TV!). “And then Season 6 had a brand new cast, but Season 7 had a new host and format, although to be fair to them they brought back three members of the original cast from Season 1.”

“Which is… also the cast from Seasons 2 and 3?” Claude says slowly.

“Exactly!” Marinette nods. “And then, to make things more ridiculous,” (why is she still talking about this?!) “Season 4 brought back a few members of the Season 1-2-3 cast to help with challenges. But only a few actually likeable ones, most of them were people who only got so far in Season 1-2-3 because other people screwed up worse than they did. Some of them honestly should have been voted off way quicker than they were.”

Claude blinks slowly, before smiling winningly at her. “Well, if you were on that island, you’d have my vote.”

“Well, only Seasons 1, 4, 5 and 6 were set on islands,” Marinette explains before she can stop herself. “And if you vote for someone it means you _don’t_ want them to win.” (Seriously, Marinette, shut up now!) “Sorry,” she apologizes. “I just have a lot of feelings about it.”

“No, I can tell,” Claude says, nodding. “It’s, uh, cool.”

Marinette breathes a sigh of relief. “So, what TV shows are you interested in?”

And then Claude’s talking about sports and goals and teams and Marinette can breathe because she knows some of this stuff, about two months ago they dealt with a disgruntled goal-keeper calling himself ‘the Gaolie’ and trapping people in a giant football and she’d picked up on some of the rules, so she can follow along easily and can stop worrying about talking his ear off about the Season 3 cheating scandal (which the dude involved should have got a lot more blame for as the cheating party, really, kissing your girlfriend’s best friend on international reality TV is just plain shitty, and she’s getting side-tracked again) and the date is going well.

But because Marinette has no luck recently, Claude is just getting into the finer points of penalty kicks when the door swings open and she hears an all-too-familiar voice enter the restaurant.

“No, really, Nino says the pizza here is amazing. We’ll just tell them we went to some place with caviar, they don’t need to know everything we do.”

Against her better judgement, Marinette looks over at the new guests, and groans quietly to herself. Adrien, with none other than Kagami Tsurugi in tow, both with their fencing bags slung over one shoulder. And then, because Marinette has clearly done something to offend a Kwami in a previous life, Kagami says, “Adrien, isn’t that Marinette over there?”

Marinette hurriedly yanks her hair over her face and forces herself to focus on the point Claude is making about someone called Gary Lineker. Whatever Adrien and Kagami say next is lost by the sound of their food arriving. The conversation comes to an end, and Marinette nibbles on a slice of her pizza (margarita with basil and garlic) and tries to ignore how nauseous the smell of Claude’s macaroni and cheese is making her feel.

“‘ou OK?” Claude says around a mouthful of – OK, that’s disgusting. Marinette nods awkwardly.

“Yeah, just recognised someone from school.”

“Oh, tha’ Agreshte kid?” Claude says. Marinette nods again, looking away and stuffing pizza into her mouth.

“It’s a little awkward because of what happened between him and me,” she explains (after swallowing like a civilised person).

“You two were da’ing?”

“NO!” Marinette says, way too loudly. “No,” she repeats at a more reasonable volume. “No, it’s just that I had a crush on him for ages, and he kind of… stomped… on it?”

“‘ou ‘ad a crush on Agreshte?” Claude frowns, still chewing noisily.

“Emphasis on _had_ ,” Marinette insists. She frowns a little. “Really, you didn’t know?”

“Nope.”

“Because I was pretty sure the whole school knew.”

“No’ me.”

“I wasn’t exactly subtle.”

“Marinette,” Claude says, having finally swallowed before speaking. “Can we just, I dunno, move on and enjoy the night?”

“Right, right,” Marinette nods. “Sorry. Like I said, I’ve never really… done this before. Wait, _did_ I tell you that? No, I didn’t, did I?” She groans. “I’m just gonna… eat my pizza now. Yeah.”

* * *

“She looks uncomfortable,” Kagami says as their food arrives.

“Who?” Adrien glances up from where he is very determinedly avoiding looking at Marinette and Claude.

“Marinette,” Kagami says, and against his better judgement, Adrien looks up at where the love of his life is indeed squirming uncomfortably as her date chews macaroni with an open mouth. “Should I go over and speak to her?” Kagami frowns. “I believe that is the girl code when you see someone looking unhappy on a date.”

Adrien shakes his head. “No, she’s… probably just nervous. Marinette gets nervous sometimes.”

“Are you sure? Because she looks quite upset. Or as your friend Nino would say, she looks ‘freaked’.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” After all, Marinette is on a date with what is clearly the guy she has been turning him down for all this time – someone who never noticed her until she tried to forget him.

“Adrien.” Adrien turns to his friend, who is frowning at him. “Just because this girl broke your heart, does not mean you should turn your back on a friend in her time of need.”

“Marinette and I aren’t friends anymore,” he says sadly. “Truthfully, she only tolerated me because she pities – wait.” He freezes. “How do you know she broke my heart?”

Kagami rolls her eyes. “It has been evident since we went to the ice rink. I believe I am correct in saying that she was the girl you were trying to move on from.”

Adrien frowns, shaking his head. “No, no, she broke my heart when she told me we weren’t friends, which was only last week –” But it kind of _was_ Marinette he was trying to move on from when he made the mistake of taking Kagami on a date.

Kagami listens to this, frowning, then shakes her head. “Either way, you are very attached to her.”

Adrien sighs. “Well, yeah, she’s only the love of my life –” He freezes again, realising who he’s just admitted this to. “I’m sorry, Kagami. I don’t want to hurt you.”

To his surprise, Kagami smirks. “Relax, Adrien, I accepted that our relationship was not headed for romance a long time ago. You were too wrapped up in your mystery girl, whom I believe I finally know the identity of.”

Adrien sighs in relief. “Thank you for understanding. Honestly, I’ve been really worried about her lately.”

“I do not blame you, if she is going on dates with boys she is clearly uncomfortable with. I would worry too. In fact, I believe that Marinette does count as my friend now, so I think I shall worry with you.”

“Is it that obvious that she’s uncomfortable with him?”

Kagami shrugs. “I am no expert, but she is displaying many signs of discomfort. Not making eye contact, fiddling with her utensils more than necessary, and holding her bag strap far too tensely.”

Adrien watches as the two finish their meal and Claude gets up to pay. Marinette is indeed clutching her purse with white-knuckled fingers, staring at the floor. She looks a little like she might be sick.

“They’re leaving,” Kagami comments, frowning. She snatches the last slice of pizza, and eagerly scarfs it, her concern not cancelling out her glee at having the chance to eat regular food instead of edible displays of wealth. “I’ll pay. You follow and keep an eye on them.”

“But –”

“GO!”

* * *

Adrien exits the restaurant and looks around for Marinette and Claude, catching site of them just as they turn a corner onto a side street where Claude’s car must be parked. He hurries after them and peers around the corner, staying as silent and still as possible in the off-chance Kagami has misread the situation and their date is actually going well.

“Sorry I babbled on about reality TV and my crush on Adrien for so long,” Marinette is saying, and _what?_

“No sweat,” Claude replies, naturally neither knowing nor caring that his date has just flipped Adrien’s world completely upside down. “I was probably just as bad with the football.” He’s leaning against his car, and takes something out of his pocket. “Here.”

“What’s happening?” Plagg whispers, popping out of Adrien’s pocket.

“I’m not sure,” Adrien whispers, and apparently neither is Marinette.

“What is this?” she asks, taking it.

Claude grins. “€200 for MSP. They’ve got a sale on at the moment; I bet you could get a ton of stuff you’ve been after.”

“Wh-what?” Marinette mumbles. “But – wait – what do you want?”

Claude shrugs, pushing off the car door towards Marinette, and Adrien’s blood runs cold. “Whatever €200 gets me.”

He’s got his arms around her waist now, pulling her towards him, and Adrien can’t help himself, letting out a growl, Plagg hurriedly shushing him, but Marinette is already pushing Claude away.

“I was lying!” she says, her voice high and panicky. “I haven’t done anything with anyone! All of those other boys paid me to _lie_ for them. I never slept with them! It was all made up!”

“Sshhh,” Claude says, moving in again, and if Adrien didn’t hate this guy before, he definitely hates him now. “Come on, it’ll be really great.”

Marinette again shoves him off. “No! I don’t want to sleep with you – HEY, GET OFF ME!”

“What’s the matter with you?” Claude says, backing off at last. “I took you to dinner!”

“And that means I owe you sex?” Marinette snarls.

“Well –”

“Screw this!” Marinette’s voice audibly cracks. “I’m going.” And now she’s marching in Adrien’s direction, shoulders taught and chin held high, but he can see the tears pooling in her eyes.

“But I paid you!”

Marinette spins on her heel and chucks the giftcard back at him. “There. Now you didn’t.”

She marches past Adrien, not even noticing him standing at the corner, and hurries into an alley, where he catches a flash of bright pink light, and a few seconds later, Ladybug’s silhouette is visible, staying low as she dashes across the rooftops.

“What happened?”

Plagg ducks back into Adrien’s pocket, and Adrien turns to see Kagami standing behind him, looking the most perturbed he’s ever seen her. “You were right,” he whispers. “He propositioned her.” He can feel Plagg trembling with rage against his ribcage, and thanks all the Kwamis in the universe that Plagg’s rage is not directed at him.

Kagami frowns, but not angrily – more confusedly. “Adrien, I’m really sorry, but my French is not _that_ good yet. In lamest terms?”

Adrien is shaking all over. “He tried to pay her for sex. She ran off.”

If looks could kill, the entire arrondissement would be turned to ash in a matter of seconds by the fury burning in Kagami’s eyes. “Adrien,” she says slowly, reaching for the fencing bag slung around her shoulder, “go and find our friend and make sure she is alright. I have a very impolite boy to teach a lesson to.”

Adrien knows better than to argue, and heads towards the alley Marinette went into, only turning back to shout, “Kagami? Don’t do anything illegal!”

“No promises,” Kagami barks back, and he forces himself not to laugh, waiting until she’s out of sight before Plagg zooms out of his pocket.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” the Kwami hisses. “An invitation?”

Adrien transforms without further adieu, and hurries to climb up after his Lady, praying she hasn’t gone far.

* * *

She hasn’t. He finds her curled around her knees on the roof of the Pompidou Centre, and realises she’s crying again.

“Ladybug?” he asks softly.

“I really thought he liked me,” she whispers. “I really thought it was just a date.”

Chat Noir sits down next to her. “Some guys just suck.” He sighs. “I saw it all. That was really shitty of him to do that to you.”

Ladybug freezes up. “All of it?”

Chat Noir bites his lip before nodding. It’s time the truth came out. “I saw how uncomfortable you were in the restaurant. I saw him give you the giftcard. And… I saw him grab you.” He moves closer but doesn’t touch her, allowing her to choose whether she wants contact or not. She does, moving so she’s leaning against him, and he wraps an arm around her. “I think Plagg was ready to cataclysm him right there and then.”

“I honestly wouldn’t have minded,” she chuckles wetly, but suddenly she frowns. “Wait. If you saw me in the restaurant – but I was –”

“I already knew who you are,” he admits. “I figured it out when you told me about your reputation a few days ago. Only one girl I know is that kind to fake Chlamydia to cover up someone else’s mistake… Marinette.” And then, before she can say anything else, he whispers, “Claws in.”

Ladybug stares at him as his mask vanishes, and her jaw drops when she recognises him. “Adrien?” she whispers. “But – the girl you turned me down for –”

“It was you all along,” he admits. “And I feel so stupid knowing that now. I was hopelessly in love with Ladybug, and then suddenly I had all these crazy confused feelings for Marinette, and it turns out you’re one and the same.” His eyes widen as something else hits him.

* * *

_“Marinette… had a crush on… this guy… for a really long time. And a few weeks ago, he hurt her feelings pretty badly.”_

_“Who’s the guy?”_

_“I… don’t think she’d want me to tell you.”_

* * *

_“Sorry I babbled on about my crush on Adrien for so long.”_

* * *

Maribug seems to have come to the same conclusion. “You heard me tell Claude how I felt about you.”

“How do you feel about me?” Adrien asks hurriedly.

 _“Felt,”_ Ladynette says, too quickly and insistently to sound honest. “Oh, Kwami, this is really embarrassing.”

Clearly Plagg likes Marinette, because he takes pity on her. “So, about Cataclysming your date.”

“Don’t,” Ladybug shakes her head, smiling a little. “It might be a little obvious.” Her eyes widen. “I bet you and Tikki could use a bit of a catch-up. Spots off.”

Adrien briefly catches sight of a familiar red blur before the Ladybug Kwami tackles Plagg out of the air, and the two teen heroes chuckle a little at the sight of the normally grouchy Kwami snuggling all over his other half. Marinette leans her head on Adrien’s shoulder.

“So, I’m guessing I said something to Chat Noir while I was drunk that made you upset at me,” she says quietly.

Adrien sighs. “Don’t worry about it. You did kind of tell me you hated me, but now I know where you were coming from, I don’t blame you. I totally forgive you – and I’d really like it if you could forgive me for being so insensitive to your feelings.”

Marinette nods against his shoulder. “Forgiven.”

Adrien glances down at the beautiful girl snuggled against his shoulder, only now noticing her dress. It’s short, black satin with a single strap held in place by a big pink bow, and so beautifully crafted it’s clear she made it herself. Kwami, this girl is so freaking talented. “Hey, Marinette?” he says quietly.

“Yeah?” Marinette mumbles.

Fuck it. If he doesn’t say this now, he’s never going to say it. “If I don’t tell anyone, can I kiss you right now?”

He shouldn’t be so disappointed when she shakes her head. “No,” she whispers, her voice sounding choked again. Really, he shouldn’t have had his hopes up. Marinette isn’t interested in Adrien any more. Ladybug has never been interested in Chat Noir.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

To his surprise, Marinette shakes her head again. “No, I meant… right now, I have wet mascara dribbling down my cheeks and I’ve been feeling like I’m going to throw up all night. I want our first proper kiss to be special.”

And now Adrien feels like a jet pack has been strapped to his heart and is shooting up into space surrounded by glittering stars and pink unicorns that poop rainbows, because _she’s though about their first kiss! Holy shit! This is officially the best moment of his life!_

Marinette is speaking again, and he hurries to tune in. “Would you mind taking me back home?” she asks. “Only I came here in Claude’s car, and that’s not really an option any more.”

Adrien nods, nuzzling her hair softly before getting to his feet and offering her a hand up. He carries her to her house the same way he carried her that night so long ago when they’d both had a broken heart and had found solace in the other’s friendship, and finds himself thinking, _even if Marinette decides she never wants a relationship with me, I’m glad that I know we’re friends._

“Adrien?” she says quietly as he lands on her balcony. “I’m really glad that you’re my kitty. No one else can ever replace either of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points for correctly guessing what TV show Marinette is talking about. Double bonus points for correctly guessing what cast member she thinks should have been voted off earlier than they were in every season they competed in.


	8. Not with a Fizzle, but with a BANG!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette needs to get out of her situation and clear her name if she ever hopes of having a real relationship with Adrien, and a threat towards Marc and Nathaniël doubles it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... can't believe this is finished. Honestly, what with starting work, a new relationship, that relationship ending when I got cheated on, Christmas hours, and being a part-time drama teacher, it's a wonder I have any time for breathing. But at last here is the final chapter.
> 
> Everyone who has commented, I love you all so much!! Thank you. Same to everyone who left kudos - y'all rock. If you liked this fic, maybe check out one of my other ones? Besides this I have four other MLB fics (though two aren't finished), plus a fair few other fandoms I've written for, including my original work.
> 
> And as a slight disclaimer: suspension of belief is key. Because this is my fic and I'm allowed to be unrealistic and it's also about teen superheroes.

Marinette has no idea what to expect when Nathaniël asks to meet her during lunch the day after her disaster of a date with Claude. She hopes that he’s not going to ask her for a ‘favour’; she doesn’t think she can face another one, not to mention, with the reveal of Chat Noir’s identity, there’s no way they’ll ever be able to have a relationship if she keeps going the way she’s going.

But when she meets him on Pont des Arts, Nath doesn’t look like someone about to ask for fake sex. He looks like someone on the verge of a panic attack.

“You… OK, Nath?”

Nathaniël turns, wild-eyed, towards her, and grabs her hands. “Thank God you’re here, Marinette – we’re in serious trouble – I don’t know what to do – she’s going to out us, and that will lead to you being outed, and – oh, Christ, fuck, shit –”

“OK, OK,” she says soothingly, and pulls him over to a bench. “Breathe, Nath. It’ll be OK. When you can, start from the beginning.”

Nathaniël takes a deep breath, nodding, and exhales slowly. “OK. It started yesterday…”

_“Then if we do **this** storyline, and it ties into that plot twist, I think it would really work,” Marc says. They’re in the art room, just the two of them, planning the next arc of their comic, and Nathaniël can’t help but be entranced by the way Marc becomes so self-assured talking about their story. He’s so confident, and it does funny things – nice things – to Nathaniël’s chest to remember that he’s one of the few people who gets the privilege of seeing Marc like this. It’s too bad that Marc’s apparently as straight as they come. Not to mention, kind of weird that he’s slept with a girl Nathaniël used to have a raging crush on. Nathaniël finds himself missing the days when he could have sworn Marc reciprocated his feelings._

_“Then we can – hey, Nathaniël?” Nathaniël looks up at Marc’s concerned expression, his very soft-looking lips curved in worry. What he would give to turn that frown back into a smile…_

_“Yeah?” he replies hurriedly, realising he’s spacing out daydreaming about his friend again._

_“You OK?” Marc asks. “You look kind of far-away.”_

**_It’s nothing, I just really want to kiss you right now,_ ** _Nathaniël thinks._

_Marc’s jaw drops, and Nathaniël turns the same colour as his hair as he realises he **said that out loud.** He buries his face in his hands, groaning quietly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, you probably hate me now – do you hate me now? I should just go –”_

_“Nath?” Marc asks softly, and Nathaniël pauses in his catastrophicizing to look back at Marc. His beautiful green eyes are so close. “Do you… have a crush on me?”_

_Unable to speak, Nathaniël nods. The next thing he feels is a soft pair of lips pressing against his own. Marc pulls away after a moment, and Nathaniël stares at him, stupefied. “But you – and Marinette – you’re straight!”_

_Marc shakes his head, looking embarrassed. “Marinette and I faked it. I was so sick of being bullied for just… being myself, and she wanted to perpetuate the rumour that she’s sleeping around – she’s totally not, by the way – so we faked it. I faked it. The truth is, I’m really into this cute boy I write comics with.” His cheeks flush pink. “Know if he might like me back?”_

_Nathaniël nods slowly, his blush returning in full force. “He definitely likes you back. And it’s been killing him thinking you were straight. And…” he takes a deep breath, “he’d really – **I’d** really – like to kiss you again right now.”_

_And then they’re kissing again, and this is definitely an activity Nathaniël would like to participate in more often, kissing Marc, and Marc’s hand finds his own, their fingers weaving together, and it feels as natural as breathing, and Marc smells so nice, and –_

_“I KNEW IT!” someone screams, and they break apart to see Anita Gaudin standing in the doorway, phone camera pointed at them. “I knew you were really gay!” She sneers nastily. “I bet your old friend Zacharie would love to see this photo, Marc. Good thing on Friday there’s going to be a school-wide assembly with a massive projector. The whole school deserves to know what you really are – a couple of **faggots!”**_

Nathaniël’s shaking by the time he finishes, and Marinette puts an arm around him comfortingly. She can’t even speak, she’s so angry. “Don’t worry,” she manages at last. “I’ll fix this, Nath.”

* * *

The natural course of action is to ask Anita to not… be a bitch. Marinette follows her to the bathroom during fifth period and waits until Anita exits her cubicle before clearing her throat and politely requesting that she not tell the whole school about Marc and Nathaniël.

Anita raises a judgemental eyebrow. “Never saw you as one to stand up for _faggots_ , Dupain-Cheng.”

“Why can’t you just leave them alone?” Marinette demands. “Think of keeping this secret as returning my favour.”

“No.”

The smugness in her voice is unbearable, and Marinette is forcibly reminded why she tries not to feel too bad for these kids. “How about this?” Marinette says coldly. “You delete that photo and keep this a secret, and in return, I _keep_ keeping your secret about giving Zacharie chlamydia.”

The smugness vanishes from Anita’s face instantly. Marinette hates to admit it, but it gives her a twisted sense of satisfaction. “Are you threatening me?”

“Let me put it this way,” Marinette suggests. “If you are the reason for Marc and Nathaniël feeling unsafe in school, I will be quite happy to tell Suzanne the truth about why her boyfriend’s crotch is on fire.”

Anita looks horrified for a moment, but suddenly – too suddenly – her face moves back to smug. _Why aren’t you panicking?_ Marinette wonders. _You should be panicking! I have you cornered! I’ve made the killing blow!_

And then Anita parries said blow spectacularly.

“You can tell as many people as you want,” she says coolly. “None of them will believe you. Who would you believe? The innocent girl who has ‘never had a sexual thought in her life’, or the slag who’s done half the students in this school?”

“You know I’ve never slept with anyone!” Marinette snarls. Anita grins.

“Yeah, but _they_ don’t.” She finishes drying her hands and heads for the door, glancing back over her shoulder. “You can’t stop me from exposing them. I’ve already sent the picture to Lila Rossi. She may be a liar –” Marinette’s jaw drops, and Anita rolls her eyes. “Oh please! She’s so bad at it. She claims to believe in Our Lord And Saviour Jesus Christ’s teachings, but if she really did, she’d stop perpetuating the rumour that Jagged Stone wrote a song about her. Rock music is a sin in the eyes of God.”

And the Anita Marinette knows is officially back.

“Lila would do anything to keep herself popular,” Anita continues, “including pushing her ‘friends’ down just to spread some new gossip. If I can’t do it, she will. They have sinned in the eyes of our Lord, and now they will pay for it.”

“I really don’t think that’s how Jesus likes things done,” Marinette calls after her – too late, as the door is already swinging closed behind her.

Marinette is really starting to hate this bathroom.

Sixth period History roles around, and as class rep, Marinette is the natural choice for Ms Bustier to send to pick up some worksheets about the June Rebellion of 1832 from the printer. As she walks to the tiny room where the printer is kept, she can’t help but stew over what she’s going to do next. Asking Anita failed. Threatening Anita also failed, and honestly, it’s not Marinette’s style. She just… _hates_ all of this _so much._

Naturally, when she opens the door, Suzanne is in the room, picking up worksheets to do with the Reign of Terror. Ms Bustier’s worksheets have been moved over to sit neatly on the one-person desk that’s been crammed in next to the printer (honestly, can they even call this a room? It’s more of a generous cupboard). Suzanne looks up as the door opens, and Marinette angrily remembers what Anita has done to someone she claims to be friends with.

To someone who, not long ago, was a pretty good friend to Marinette.

And she can’t help what she blurts out.

“I don’t even have an STD! _Anita Gaudin_ gave Zacharie chlamydia and she’s been screwing him this entire time!”

Suzanne’s jaw drops, and it hits Marinette that this is about the worst possible way for someone to hear the truth about their boyfriend’s infidelity.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and grabs Ms Bustier’s worksheets before fleeing back to class. Marinette has had a lot of bad weeks recently, but this is officially the worst week ever.

* * *

Fortunately, by the end of school she’s come up with a new plan: ask her previous customers for help telling the truth before Anita can. There are certainly enough of them that if she manages to get them on her side, she’ll have enough people to back her up on the atrocious bullying problem in the school. If enough people band together to face off against the bullies, it will be a lot harder for them to… well, bully.

Unfortunately, certain circumstances regarding past deals mean that this plan goes to shit even worse than the last one.

“I’m s-s-sorry, Marinette,” Milo says when she approaches him at his part-time job at the Pear Store. “I just c-can’t d-d-do that.” He leans in closer, grinning widely. “D-do you know how much a-a-action I’ve been getting since I m-m-m-made out with you? H-how much r-re-respect I get from other g-g-guys now? I’m like a n-new m-m-man. I’m not g-g-g-giving this up for a-a-anything.”

Her pleas to the other guys who know the truth go about as well. She’s leaving the fast food place where Davy Lapouche works with her shoulders tight with frustration, when who should she run into but Suzanne.

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Suzanne sighs and raises her hand. Marinette braces herself for another slap, but it never comes. She blinks, and realises Suzanne is actually offering a handshake.

“Thank you for telling me the truth about Zacharie,” she says quietly. “I should have realised you had more integrity than that. Jesus says we should choose to forgive, after all.”

Marinette accepts the handshake, wondering if this might be a fever dream. “What brought you round?”

They start to walk down the street together. Suzanne fiddles with one of her long blonde braids as she explains, “I realised Zacharie had been acting odd – shifty, avoiding me – for at least a month before you started… well. Anita too. Just after school, she was in the church at the same time I was, and I saw her go into the confessional. I was the only one there – my parents were talking with people – and I overheard her confess to adultery with another girl’s boyfriend.”

“That would do it,” Marinette sighs. “Man, Anita’s been a real pain to deal with recently.”

“Tell me about it,” Suzanne agrees. “She was acting so weird after school. She demanded to put a slide on the student council’s announcements presentation, but wouldn’t let me see what it was. I know she’s my deputy, but we’re supposed to work together, aren’t we? Jesus says, ‘Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow.’ She doesn’t seem to have paid any attention at all during bible study this month.”

Marinette barely hears her. She knows exactly what slide Anita has put on the powerpoint. Oh man, if Zacharie sees that slide…

“He won’t,” Suzanne blinks, and Marinette realises she said that last part out loud. “Didn’t you hear? He was transferred out yesterday and sent to live with his grandparents in Maine-et-Loire. His mother thinks he needs to spend ‘more time on bible study and less time on harlots’ – no offence. She doesn’t know about Anita.”

“None taken,” Marinette says thoughtfully. With Zacharie gone, his little gang of bullies will fall apart. Suzanne, Anita and Zacharie are about the only kids in their group who don’t suffer from sheep brain. Zacharie’s gone, Suzanne’s no longer a threat, and either Anita’s threat about showing Zacharie the picture of Marc and Nathaniël was an empty one, or she doesn’t know about Zacharie’s transfer. She can feel her internal cogs clicking, forming an idea so crazy that it might just actually work.

“Suzanne,” she says thoughtfully, “would it be OK with you if I was the final editor on this powerpoint? I have some finishing touches for it. But, could you maybe not tell Anita? I’m worried she’ll get… defensive.”

Suzanne looks surprised, but nods. “I don’t see why not. And you needn’t worry about Anita hearing anything from me.”

Marinette beams and pulls Suzanne into a hug before hurrying back in the direction of her house. “Thank you!” she shouts over her shoulder.

Suzanne blinks again, surprised but not disgusted. “You’re… welcome?”

As Marinette approaches the bakery, she scribbles a mental list of things to do:

  * Keep Anita quiet
  * Expose Lila’s lack of credibility
  * Make sure Marc and Nathaniël are safe
  * Fix her reputation.



With a little bit of luck, this plan might actually work. As she unlocks the back door and heads up the stairs, she hurriedly texts Marc to tell him her idea (because he’s going to be affected by it probably more than anyone else), and then Adrien:

**To: Kitty <3**

_Hey Kitty, I think I might have an idea to fix this disaster I’ve got myself into. But I need your help… xxx_

His reply chimes in only a few seconds later.

**From: Kitty <3**

_Whatever you need, My Lady. I’m with you to the end xxx_

* * *

Marinette is horribly nervous by lunchtime on Friday; her plan is relying on so many variables there’s a good chance of it not working. At least Marc’s in favour of her plan, and she’s got the school band on board, as well as the dance team. She breathes a sigh of relief when she sees Principle Damocles through his office window as she passes by; he’s already in his Owl costume. With an assembly to make sure everyone else is occupied, there’s no way he’ll be re-emerging until after the bell rings. Time to put the first part of the plan in motion.

**To: Kitty <3**

_Phase one: go xxx_

Adrien’s first task is quite simple: cataclysm a fiddly part of the printer. If it’s hard-to-reach enough, that will be all of the teachers out of the way too.

Her Ladybug luck must be working its magic; there isn’t a teacher in sight when they enter the library. The band plays the school song (a jazzed-up version of ‘Do You Hear The People Sing?’ that definitely has rewritten, cringe-worthy, thankfully-long-forgotten educational lyrics somewhere) and Suzanne brings up the first slide while Anita shuffles her notes and starts narrating.

They get through dress-code announcements, school trip fundraisers, and an announcement that Lila’s going to be interviewed about her internship with Gabriel that night at five o’clock, all without incident (although Marinette growls a little at Lila’s smug face as she waves to the room), and Anita has moved onto the second-to-last topic (school clubs) when Marinette gets up and slips off to prepare.

“…and remember, the Bible Study Club always has its doors open,” Anita finishes, although her face says otherwise. The smug look from the other day reappears, and Marinette knows it’s time. “And now, one last announcement… Suzanne, if you would…”

Someone in the band does a snare roll as Suzanne obediently changes the slide, only instead of the picture Anita was clearly expecting, it’s now black and glittery, with the words ‘ _Presenting… The Lovely Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng!’_ in pink cursive across it. Anita’s jaw drops, and a slow horn starts up as Marinette emerges in a tight black corset, leather shorts, and black platform sandals.

“Come on, babe, why don’t we paint the town?” she sings into a microphone pilfered from the tech closet and plugged carefully into the library’s speaker system. “And all that jazz! I’m gonna rouge my knees and roll my stockings down… and all that jazz! Start the car, I know a whoopee-spot, where the gin is cold but the piano’s hot! It’s just a noisy hall where there’s a nightly brawl, and all… that… jazz!”

The congregated students all stare at her, apparently unable to speak. The band speeds up slightly as the next verse starts, and the dance team hurries to join her.

“Slick your hair and wear your buckled shoes,” the dancers all point their left feet, and Marinette curls a lock of midnight hair around her finger, “and all that jazz! I hear that Father Dipp is gonna blow the blues –” she cheekily grabs the slide of someone’s trombone and pulls it all the way out, bending her back as far as she can. “– and all that jazz! Come on babe, we’re gonna Bunny Hug! I bought some aspirin down at United Drug in case you shake apart and want a brand new start to do… that… JAAAAZZ!!”

At her high note, several whoops break out across the room, and Marinette finds herself getting into it more as the dancers body-roll (read: slut-drop) around her. In the middle of the third verse, she catches sight of Lila sneaking out of the doors, doubtless to go and find a teacher, and finds herself very glad that they cut out the instrumental breaks, because Lila can be very quick when she wants to be – or, when she wants to get Marinette in trouble, at least. The fourth verse is faster anyway, and on the hissed last word, the dancers pull back from her as she walks forward, eyes on Adrien, who is grinning at her in the front row.

“No, I’m no-one’s wife, but, oh, I love my life! And aaaaaaaaall… thaaaaaaaaaat…” she sits in Adrien’s lap as the trumpets soar, and leans in like she’s going to kiss him, but at the last moment pulls away and leans back so far she can grin upside-down at the band, “JAAAAAAA-A-A-AAZZ, that jazz!”

The audience, which has been cheering at the end of every verse since the second, is on its feet in an instant. Marinette glances at Anita as she and Adrien get up; the Bible-thumper looks like a fish that’s just been electrocuted, and seems unable to speak at all. Marinette turns back to Adrien with a grin, taking his hand.

“You OK?” he mouths. She nods discreetly.

“Never better,” she mouths back, before turning to the crowd.

“This was just a sneak preview,” she winks. “The real show starts tonight at five on my Instagram story, where Adrien and I will be going live!” She smirks at the intrigued sounds coming from the gathered students, and continues, “Now, I know it messes with the livestream of Lila’s interview about being Gabriel’s new muse, but come on. Would you rather listen to Lila lie about being a model, or watch me _do_ a model?”

The cheers that fill the room (mostly boys) speak for themselves. Marinette blows a kiss to her audience (she’d secretly always wanted her own musical number), and she and Adrien dash behind a shelving unit and head for the carefully propped-open fire exit just before Lila rushes into the room with Principle Damocles in tow. There’s something incredibly satisfying to hear her wailing “But, Sir, they were just here!” and Damocles’ voice responding, the words garbled, but the tone making it all too clear that Lila is In Deep Trouble for interrupting his Owl time. The two hurry down the fire escape (with a little help from Tikki and Plagg), and Adrien pulls her into a tight hug before they split, Marinette hurrying home, Adrien hurrying off to hide from Lila until his bodyguard comes to pick him up.

* * *

By the time five o’clock rolls around, Marinette is practically basting in nervous sweat, but she has a job to do, and she has to do it before Anita finds another way to get even. She changes her shirt for a new one she just finished a few days ago, tight at the waist and off the shoulder, with balloon sleeves and delicate frills at the edges. Fittingly, it’s made of a soft fabric patterned with cherries. Then she heads up to her balcony and opens Instagram on her phone, sets it up on her table, and opens her story, clicking on the livestream option. Instantly, she has twenty viewers. It’s time.

“Let me just start by saying that there are two sides to every story,” Marinette begins, “and that this is my side. The right side – I hope. The story of how I, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, she of above-average grades and below-average breast-size, became the school slut overnight.”

And so she talks. About how she’d lied to save face in front of a boy who had broken her heart, how Alya had got the wrong idea from Marinette’s unwillingness to discuss the date, and how Lila had overheard them talking and had spread the rumour around. How she’d known it would happen because Lila’s had it out for her since the beginning of school because Marinette dared to call her out for lying about knowing Jagged Stone. How Marc had pleaded for her help in escaping the boys who tormented him daily for his sexuality, how they’d planned their rendezvous accordingly, and how just one person knowing the truth had spiralled into a profitable business. She talks about meeting with boys, accepting their payments, and giving them the go-ahead to spread the agreed rumour. She talks about comforting Suzanne in the bathroom, how she’d genuinely enjoyed being friends with her, and how she’d taken the blame for the Chlamydia on behalf of Anita – who she doesn’t mention by name, even though it’s _because of her they’re here_ – because she of all people knew what it was like to be an outcast in your safe space. How she feels genuinely awful for the way she dropped the truth about Zacharie on Suzanne. How she wished none of it was happening, that her life could be a cheesy eighties movie where she doesn’t have to lie and push her friends away and show her body off and pretend that she’s going to do live porn just to be listened to.

And when she’s exhausted all of that (more than an hour after she started), she takes a deep breath and fixes the camera with sad eyes. “You know, _The Scarlet Letter_ tells us a lot about how sexually-active women are treated,” she says quietly. “But the one thing it doesn’t tell you is how… _shitty_ it feels to _be_ the outcast.”

She takes a deep breath, not quite sure what to say next, but she’s interrupted by the sound of ‘Kiss Me’ by Sixpence None The Richer floating up to her balcony. She gets to her feet with a slight frown and looks down – to see none other than Adrien himself, holding up a boombox and smiling goofily up at her.

“It’s not an eighties movie,” he calls up, “but _She’s All That_ was the best I could do on short notice.”

Marinette lets a breathless laugh escape her throat. “I see you’ve been watching my livestream,” she grins. “It’s still going, you know?”

“Screw ‘em,” Adrien declares. “You’ve given them enough already.”

Marinette laughs again. “I’ll be right down.” She turns back to her phone with a wide smile. “That’s Adrien,” she informs her audience. “Ironically enough, the boy I started this to get over.” She chews her lip, making a decision. “Not that I owe you guys anything more, but… I _really_ like this guy. And… I might even lose my virginity to him.” She glances back at the edge of the balcony, unable to stop herself from beaming. “I don’t know when it will be,” she adds thoughtfully. “Maybe five minutes from now. Maybe tonight. Maybe six months from now – or maybe even on our wedding night. But the one thing I do know –” she grins triumphantly for the first time in months, “it is _nobody’s goddamn business.”_

And with that, she ends the livestream, not caring how anyone’s going to react to it.

(But I think you all might, so here:)

* * *

Nathaniël and Marc watch on a sticker-covered laptop, curled together on Marc’s bed and holding hands. As the video ends, they grin at each other, before sharing a short, victorious kiss.

* * *

Alya and Nino sit together on Nino’s bed, shellshocked. Alya’s phone chimes with a group-chat notification, and she automatically opens it.

**From Mari**

_Als, Nino, sorry I lied to you. Xx_

“And I’m sorry you felt the need to lie at all,” Alya whispers. Nino leans his head on her shoulder, squeezing her hand, trying to comfort himself as much as he is Alya. He barely even hears Chris demanding to know why YouTube is running slow.

* * *

Although Kagami is horrified to hear that Marinette has put herself through more even more bullshit than she’d realised, she can’t help but be very, _very_ proud of how brave Marinette was to admit it. And even though she has to shove her phone very unceremoniously down her shirt as her mother’s assistant checks that she’s doing her homework, she can’t shake her smile.

* * *

Suzanne glances over her shoulder at where Anita sits two empty church pews behind her, looking pale and angry, and locks her phone with a covert grin, before getting to her feet and heading over to the confessional.

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned,” she says, loud enough that she knows Anita can hear her. The church is basically empty, after all. “It has been two days since my last confession, when I realised I had treated an innocent girl unfairly. I have sinned against myself this time; keeping company that did not care about anyone beside themselves. And while we’re at it, I’ve been dating a complete dunderhead.”

* * *

Caline Bustier sits back in her chair with a sigh. While she’d suspected there was more going on with Marinette than she was letting on, she feels very stupid that she forgot the Dupain-Chengs knew Jagged Stone personally. _I can’t believe I fell for such an obvious lie,_ she thinks. _Time to have a closer look at Lila Rossi’s records – and her mother’s contact details, too._

* * *

Grégoire furiously tries to click back to Marinette’s Instagram story, to see if he missed anything at the end, but to no avail.

 _I thought she’d at least take her clothes off,_ he thinks angrily. _Demi Moore took **her** clothes off._

* * *

Milo, watching on his phone as he crosses the road, angrily flings his ice-cream cone at a car, flipping off the yelling driver and then running away as fast as he can when the guy gets out of his car.

* * *

As Marinette thunders down the stairs, Tom almost makes a joke about not wanting grandchildren just yet, but Sabine lays a hand on his arm that stops him. As he meets his wife’s eyes, he knows they’re proudly thinking the same thing:

_We have the bravest daughter in the world._

* * *

Adrien is beaming when Marinette finally makes it out of the bakery, and she can’t help but beam back, because this – knowing he believed her when she told the truth, helped her with her crazy plan, and is still here waiting for her and looking at her like she’s some kind of Disney princess, is better than anything she could have imagined. He puts down the boom-box and pulls her into a tight hug, which she returns with enthusiasm, and then he pulls back a little, gazing into her eyes with her favourite soft look in them, and _oh_ , this is happening!

When their lips meet, they’re really both smiling too much to make it an extraordinarily skilled kiss, but maybe that’s why it’s so perfect. After all, they’re Marinette and Adrien, Ladybug and Chat Noir, and they’re together at last, meant for each other, soulmates in every sense of the word. And when they pull away – only for breath – and gaze into each other’s eyes again, the whole world just seems to melt away.

“Race you to the Eiffel Tower?” Adrien asks, so quiet no passer-by can hear it. Marinette’s smile widens, and she tightens the hug.

“I can’t think of anything I’d like more right now,” she whispers into his ear, before pulling away and dashing for the alley behind the bakery. “Catch me if you can!”

“Oh, it’s _on!”_ Adrien yells gleefully, and follows her.

Marinette half-expects an Akuma to result from her video, and half-expects another one – a fanboy or something – to pop up when Ladybug kisses Chat Noir atop the Eiffel Tower, but Hawkmoth, it seems, is still on his hiatus.

After some of the worst months ever, today has become a day she never wants to forget.

##  One Final Note

When Lila (who did most definitely not watch Marinette’s livestream) gets to school on Monday, she thinks about how great her week has been. Marinette’s miserable, everyone’s hanging onto Lila’s every word, and she’s pretty sure Adrien will be hers within a few days. But she hasn’t experienced being ignored like this since Marinette and Marc slept together. Luckily, she’s got a secret weapon, courtesy of Anita Gaudin, that will blow _Marcinette_ out of the water – in more ways than one. It’s got to be more interesting than whatever everyone’s currently gossiping about.

* * *

(That night, even though she crosses her fingers as hard as she can, an Akuma never comes. Gabriel Agreste is still in Milan, currently lying in bed thinking about the live video he watched on Instagram last night. He’d tuned in to pick up on possible Akuma targets for when he got back to France, but ended up feeling rather emotional himself. Emilie went through something similar in college, he remembers. But this Marinette girl – Adrien’s girlfriend? – seems to have been a lot smarter about it than Emilie had been.

As far as girlfriends for Adrien go, he approves.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for reading. I love you!!

**Author's Note:**

> Please Kudos and Comment!! Tell me what you think!!


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